The Blade
by Dovahkiir2015
Summary: Set during the events of DAI. The world is in turmoil. This is a time that people have to rely on each other, but it isn't always a good idea. Sometimes those who you trust most can't be trusted, and those who you trust the least are who you should trust the most. Rated T for now, might change later on. One or two things that I'm debating putting in. Not a great summary.
1. The Bow and the Blade

_Nothing was stopping her. Nothing. So why didn't she just do the job she was meant to and… leave?_

* * *

Siara leaned against a tree rather lazily, peeling an apple with her knife while listening to her prospective employer. Clearly this wasn't something they were used to, considering how much they were fidgeting and how much they stammered. She sighed, mildly angrily, and glanced at her brother where he hid in a tree, pulling a disgusted face at him. He just grinned back, adjusting his grip on his bow. The Bow and The Blade, assassins, thieves, mercenaries for hire. Oh, and elves. Not exactly Dalish, but not exactly what you'd call city elves either. Siara had possibly been marked by the ink the Dalish used in Vallaslin, but if she had been then it was a very small mark, hardly visible and easily imagined. She pushed away from the tree and stepped towards the man, throwing her brown hair tied in a ponytail back over her shoulder.

"Just spit it out," She told him, "I haven't got all day, and I'm not here to judge." She smiled. It was a nice smile, easy going and open, one that said that she was able to be trusted. He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye.

"I need you to go to the conclave where the peace treaty is supposed to be signed and I want you to deal with an old colleague of mine. I don't want him dead, necessarily, but I… I want him to be taught a lesson."

"What's his name and what did you have in mind?"

"Eston. And um… I don't know. Maybe just… rough him up a bit?"

"Is he a mage or a templar?"

"Templar. A pretty good one too. He just…"

"Took something a step too far?" The man nodded.

"There was this woman… beautiful… kind… best thing that ever happened to me," He explained, "And Eston, he… he…" Siara frowned.

"Killed?"

"After he did something far worse."

"What do you think the easiest way to get to him will be?" She asked, "Any family? Close friends?"

"I don't really know."

"Where will he be?"

"With the templars headed to the -"

"Yes, yes, I know that," Siara sighed irritably, "Where among the ranks?"

"I don't…"

"You're helpful," Again she sighed, glancing around at Jacen, who shrugged, "Now what about our pay?" She looked back at the man, her purple and white eyes calculating. Her and her brother's eyes were strangely beautiful in a mildly creepy way. The man shifted awkwardly beneath her gaze, now realizing the weight of what he was doing, possibly beginning to change his mind, but Siara smiled easily and his doubts seemed to vanish. From his hiding spot Jacen scoffed, smirking slightly. His sister really had a way with men.

"H-how much do you want?"

"100 gold."

"WHAT?"

"It's cheaper than what many in our position would ask," Siara shrugged, "Considering what we are up against. The treaty isn't exactly the best place to attack someone, so many people around. Not to mention my brother and I aren't exactly the most well-liked people in Ferelden. Then there is we have to get from here to Haven and then the conclave, which… that's going to take recourses. And money, if we want to make it in any decent amount of time. 10 gold is… a pretty good deal, I'd say."

"I… 50 gold."

"Trying to haggle, are we? Alright, I'll bite. 70 gold."

"50 gold and 50 silver."

"Still trying to make us go broke?" Siara shook her head, "65 gold." The man growled.

"55 gold."

"60 gold. Final offer. Take it and we deal with your problem. Leave it, you find someone else who will charge much more. Your choice." He thought for a moment, then held out his hand.

"Deal." He grumbled. Siara threw him one of her best smiles, shaking his hand.

"Deal."

"Half now half later."

"Sounds fine to me. What do you think Jacen?" He dropped down from the tree and crossed over to her. They were very obviously related, same nose, same eyes, same hair (except his was shorter and less well cared for), same skin tone.

"I'm fine with it," He grinned, "Sorry I didn't drop in sooner."

"It… It's quite alright. I… uh… I understand." Jacen nodded, then looked down at Siara.

"Soon as he pays shall we get going?"

"Yeah, I reckon we should." Jacen turned back to him. Being an elf, he was still shorter, but even with the lack of height he was rather imposing.

"So… pay up now or we meet up again later?" The man sighed.

"I might have enough here." He dug into his bag and Siara and Jacen shared a look. Who walked around with that much money on them? Not even they did that unless they really needed to. Jacen looked at him again, slightly suspiciously.

"Sooo… what about your name?" He asked. The man glanced up from counting.

"Maric."

"Maric… What?"

"Last names don't matter."

"They do to us." Siara reached up and rested a hand on one of her swords. Unlike many, she didn't fight with a sword and a dagger, but two dual-bladed swords. Jacen half smiled, looking a little worried.

"You don't want to put this one on edge. She seems a little too eager to slice people in half." Maric watched Siara closely, then slowly nodded agreement.

"Ashwin. Maric Ashwin."

"Merchant?"

"Not quite. He's a blood mage turned merchant," Jacen shook his head, "There'll be quite the pretty sum on his head."

"How pretty?" Siara asked, her hand falling to her side as she eyed the man.

"Mm… depends who wants him most. Some of these guys could get up to 50, 60 gold? If not more."

"That sounds niiiiiiice."

"You wouldn't." Maric looked horrified and Jacen grinned again.

"You're right," He said, "But it's fun giving people the illusion we would."

"You're horrible." He shoved the coins at Jacen, who just shrugged.

"Yes, well… we are sell-swords," Then he stepped back and bowed rather extravagantly, "It has been an honour to meet you, Master Maric. We'll send news as soon as we can." He smiled and flopped his arm around his sister's shoulder, turning her around and walking off deeper into the trees.

"Are we sure this is a good idea, Jacen?" Siara asked when they were out of hearing range, "We have no clue what we are walking into, and he is a blood mage."

"Mara was a blood mage, remember? Besides, you seemed eager enough to help him when you heard about his girl."

"You know why."

"Exactly. Which is why we are going to see this through. Together. Just like we always do," He smiled at her reassuringly, "We'll be fine, Namasiara. Like we always are."

"Call me that again and you won't be fine." Siara grumbled, hitting him in the side. He just grinned, pulling her into a headlock and rubbing his knuckles on her head until she managed to wriggle out of his grasp, her nose wrinkled in annoyance as she untied her hair, running her fingers through it to try and neaten it again before tying it up in a ponytail once more. Jacen just laughed.

"You know you look adorable when you scrunch your nose up like that?"

"Shut up!" Siara objected, "I do not!"

"You do."

"Do not!"

"Do too."

"Do not!"

"Do too."

"Jacen…"

"Siara." He smiled innocently, but also teasingly, a mildly strange combination and probably not overly easy to smile like. Siara scowled, looking away.

"I. Am not. Adorable."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, sis," He laughed again, "But I have had many a woman comment on how I look, and I hate to tell you this but… if not for the part where we're not the same gender, we would be identical twins. Or close enough. Therefore, one of the things you are, is adorable."

"You've had a woman call you adorable?" Now it was Siara's turn to smirk, but Jacen shrugged it off.

"I take what compliments I get," He stretched, his hands behind his head as they walked, "Better than being called Knife-ears all the time."

"Yeah… you might have a point."

"Only might?"

"Yes."

"Siara, I usually have a point. Many, in fact."

"Your arrows don't count."

"Yes, they do."

"No, they don't."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too!"

"Do not."

"You're such a kid." Jacen muttered, Siara smirking.

"You started it."

"Did not!"

"Did too."

"Did –" He stopped himself, looking down at Siara, who looked almost too smug, then looked away, scoffing with a small smile on his face, "You win this round, Siara."

"Yay!" She grinned, then started moving on ahead, "Come on. We better hurry if we want to reach Honnleath in any decent time."

"You're so bossy."

"Well one of us has to be responsible." She grinned back at her brother, who smiled, shaking his head. They were hopeless, anyone who passed them acting like this would think so. But they were best friends, family, and would only be separated if one of them was killed. They trusted each other and knew everything about each other. They were as close as two siblings could get. The Bow and the Blade... even if Siara actually fought with two dual curved blades. They hadn't chosen the name. Originally it had been their sister, Mara, who had named them. The Bow, the Blade, and the Blood. She had been a blood mage, and a pretty good one too. And she had been the most normal looking out of the lot of them, brown hair, green eyes, and very beautiful. She had also been their leader, until templars found them, and her. They didn't even wait for a trial. She was killed on sight. And so they became the Bow and the Blade. They never even thought of changing it.

* * *

They looked down over the procession, calculating looks in their eyes. Siara scoffed.

"I shoulda asked what this guy looks like."

"Doubt it would make a lot of difference, they're all wearing exactly the same thing and you can't see their faces," Jacen told her, frowning slightly, "How do you want to play this?"

"They're gonna have to stop and rest at some point, right?" Siara asked, looking around, "Find something of value from up there," She pointed at the massive building, "Sneak it into whichever tent is his. At the very least it will impact on his career."

"Could work. Except for one thing."

"Hm?"

"How will we figure out which is his tent?" Siara gave him a nasty look.

"How do you think?"

"Womanly wiles?"

"How did you guess?"

"You always did like flirting."

"Not as much as you do."

"That's because you don't need to work as hard at it as I do. Wonder why."

"Women are smarter than men," Siara scoffed, smiling slightly, "How long do you think it'll take for us to find something of suitable value?" Jacen shrugged.

"It will take as long as it takes."

"No kidding, genius."

"You asked."

"Yes I did."

"Were you hinting you want to get a move on?"

"Yes I was."

"Alright then. Lead the way." Siara started walking, then paused, looking at Jacen suspiciously. He just smiled back, the image of perfect innocence. After a moment Siara kept walking, still not quite trusting her brother.

* * *

Jacen stayed further back while Siara, being the close combat fighter, scouted around corners. They made their way towards the centre, suspecting that there would be where they found the most valuable objects. There weren't too many people around the place, so the going was easy enough, even if it did put the twins on edge. It was almost too easy. But they kept going anyway. Who would think that this place would be attacked or burgled, anyway? They rounded another corner and spotted a reasonably well-furnished room, sharing a look. It was probably the best they were going to get. So they slipped inside and started looking, trying to find something that would get the job done. It wasn't too long after that they were found out.

"Who the hell are you?" Someone asked, making both Siara and Jacen look around. They shared a quick glance, then looked back at the newcomer. Talk about sloppiness on their part.

"You're not meant to be here. This is out of bounds to visitors," Then he frowned, "You're not visiting, are you?"

"Well, we don't live here, that much is for sure," Jacen looked around the place, scratching the back of his head, "Or at least… I'm pretty sure we don't live here… Hey, sis, do we live here?"

"No, you idiot. We don't," Siara rolled here eyes and smiled apologetically at the man, "I'm sorry about my brother, he can be a bit slow sometimes."

"That doesn't change that you're not meant to be here."

"And we are very sorry about that. We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere," The man didn't move as she walked towards him, "You wouldn't mind helping us find our way out, would you?" He still didn't move.

"Hang on…" He muttered, "You're…"

"Well, shit." The smile on Siara's face changed to a scowl and she drew her blades, Jacen quickly grabbing his bow from his back and knocking an arrow as the guard started yelling for reinforcements. Siara dealt with him quick enough, Jacen shooting an arrow right past her head into another guard who must have been pretty close by.

"We need to get a move on." Jacen said through clenched teeth.

"No kidding." Siara didn't bother shifting the bodies, just started searching again, faster this time, while Jacen took place somewhere where he could see through the door and lessen the numbers that would get through. It was surprising how quickly people seemed to find their way to them.

"I hate to rush you, but I'm kinda running out of arrows."

"How many did you bring?!" Siara demanded, still searching.

"Uh…"

"Jacen." She warned.

"Around 28? Standard number."

"Dammit, Jacen!"

"I didn't think we'd be getting in this much trouble!" He yelled back, still firing arrows.

"Ugh!" Siara turned her back on him before muttering under her breath, "I wish Mara were here. She could just fry the buggers." Then her eyes landed on a beautiful gold and sapphire armband. Without pausing to think she grabbed it, turning to face the oncoming guards, twirling her blades in her hands, slipping on the armband to keep better hold of it, pulling her coat sleeve down to cover it.

"You done?" Jacen asked her.

"Yep."

"Well, so am I," He let loose his last arrow and looked at her expectantly, "You're up, sis." Siara half smiled, heading out into the hall, almost dancing as she disposed of her foes, not necessarily killing, but in many cases severely wounding. Slowly she managed to cut enough of a path through them that Jacen could follow, a couple of daggers now in his hands and his bow on his back once more. Then someone grabbed him.

"Siara!" He called out, causing her to turn around. She took one look at what was happening, at her brother fighting for his life, and started making her way towards him as fast as she could. Then someone came up behind her, getting her in a headlock and forcing her swords from her hands. She stomped on her attacker's foot… then realized he was in metal plated armour. Jacen glanced around, saw the position she was in, and promptly threw one of his daggers, somehow managing to get the man in the throat, causing him to let go of Siara, who fell to her knees for a moment, catching her breath, then starting to move forwards again. She had to reach him. She had to.

"Siara, go!" She froze, confused.

"Jacen -"

"Go!"

"No! Not without you!" Jacen was about to respond when someone managed to slip their sword past his defences, blood seeping out of the wound now in his side. He looked down, frowning slightly as though wondering what had just happened, when another sword entered his other side, both the swords being twisted nastily as they were drawn out. Siara just watched, her own swords falling to the ground with a loud clang as Jacen collapsed. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, time seeming to freeze. By now someone else had come, forcing Siara's hands behind her back. She shook her head, unable to hear anything. This had happened only once before.

"No…" She felt sick, "No!" Now she just felt pissed, her eyes flashing with anger. No one had time to register what happened next, but the next thing Siara knew, she was crouching in the middle of a circle of fire and ice, her brother's head in her lap. Not that her explosion mattered. For straight after that there was an even larger explosion.

* * *

 **So, this isn't the fanfic that I'm primarily working on at the moment, and I am in a busy time of the year, but we'll see how this goes. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and I don't know what else I'm saying. I just usually put an Author's Note in the first chapter welcoming people to the fanfic. This chapter is mostly just a little bit of character development for the main character. Sorry that none of the actual characters of the game showed up in it. They will be in the next chapter though :P**


	2. Aftermath

**I have it ready written, so... well, it's an early update, but oh well. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

She woke up a few days later in a cabin, her head throbbing and her tongue feeling thick and sticky, like she needed a drink. After everything that had happened, she'd have preferred some kind of strong alcohol. And yes, Siara could remember everything. Well, except what happened with those explosions. She didn't understand those.

"You're awake, I see."

"Uh… yeah…" She pushed herself into a sitting position, looking around, "Who are you?"

"My name is Solas. And you are?"

"Siara," She frowned, "What happened?"

"You were lucky. Very lucky. The conclave exploded. Very few survived. You are fortunate that you're among them."

"Where's… I mean…" Siara cleared her throat, "I was with someone. I… Where are the bodies of the, uh…" She cleared her throat again. Solas frowned.

"You were on your own when we found you. There wasn't even a body with you." Siara's eyes widened before she looked away, not wanting to hear this. First, she watched her brother – her only family left – get killed, and then the body is just… gone? She didn't even get to say goodbye properly?

"Are you alright?" Solas asked gently.

"No."

"Would you like some time alone?"

"No," Siara shook her head, her face becoming emotionless, "What I would like is a drink. Ale would do it. But butterbile would be nicer, thanks," She put her feet on the ground and held her hands out to him, pointedly ignoring the fact that she definitely was _not_ wearing what she had been before, "Help me up would you?" Solas didn't look convinced, but helped her up anyway, even accepting it when she leaned on him for support as her left knee gave way slightly. Soon as she managed to put weight on both her legs, they set off. Solas watched her curiously. She didn't have the same mark as Trevelyan, when they had been found in very similar situations.

"Do you remember anything about what happened?" He asked, very much trying to get to the bottom of this.

"I'm not answering any questions until I have some alcohol in me first."

"Very well," He stopped and pushed open the door to the tavern, "After you."

"What a gentleman." She smirked, slipping inside and making a b-line for the nearest free seat. Solas followed, slipping into the chair opposite. It wasn't long before someone wandered over to take their order.

"West Hill Brandy for me," Solas said, "And, for the lady…"

"Whatever your strongest alcohol is," The waitress blinked a couple of times, "What? Isn't a girl allowed to drink?"

"No, it's not that, it's just…" Siara raised an eyebrow, "Yes, of course, right away." She bustled off, darting a glance back at Siara, who was now playing with her hair, which someone had evidently decided to untie.

"Where's my stuff?" She asked idly.

"Safe. Soon as we are certain you are safe to have around we shall return it."

"You talk funny, you know that?" Solas raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"You talk like you expect people to respect you when they don't know anything about you, and you talk as though to give the impression you know… Well… almost everything. Why?"

"What's wrong with wanting people to respect you?"

"Nothing, I suppose," She looked around as their drinks were put in front of them, "Now, you had some questions, didn't you?" She drank about half her tankard in one go, "Ask away." Solas raised his eyebrows, not sure if he was impressed or just surprised. Siara scoffed, once again looking around the room, her hair falling in loose waves about her shoulders, framing her face more picturesquely. Her skin appeared even darker than it actually was in the gloom, her skin being a light chocolatey colour. She had a couple of scars on her face, one on her jaw, one running through her eyebrow and down her cheek, though luckily for her the blade had clearly missed her eye. She had other scars, too, but they were a lot less visible, all the visible ones on her upper arms, some on the forearms but not as noticeably.

"Cat got your tongue?" She taunted, eyebrow raised elegantly as she leaned her head slightly to the side. Solas shook his head, trying to ignore the fact that, despite her strange eyes, she was very beautiful. Or perhaps it was partly because of her strange eyes.

"Do you remember anything of what happened?" He asked, "The only other survivor from the centre of the explosion – Jacquelyn Trevelyan – doesn't remember much. I was hoping you could shed some light on this matter." Siara concentrated on everything that had happened, but her mind didn't want to go past the moment her brother was killed. She finished the rest of her drink instead of answering, waving the tankard to the waitress to show she wanted another.

"I hope you're paying for this," She told Solas, "All my money is with my belongings and I sure as hell ain't working this off."

"I'll pay," Solas agreed, "So long as you answer my questions."

"No," She shook her head, "No, I don't remember anything. One moment it was quiet and the next thing I knew I was waking up in a place I still don't recognize," Now she faced him, a small frown creasing her forehead, "I _might_ remember running, but... I can't be sure," The frown vanished, her face returning to a near-blank slate, "I hope you've got deep pockets. Because right now, I'm drinking to honour someone."

"Do I look like I have a lot of money?" Solas raised an eyebrow.

"Not really," Siara admitted, "However, you can find someone to bring my money to us if it gets too bad," She leaned her elbow on the table, looking at him closer, "You're not a city elf, are you?" She asked. Solas shook his head.

"I am not."

"And if you were Dalish chances are you'd have the tattoos."

"The same applies to you."

"Yeah, well... I'm not Dalish."

"Nor am I," He watched her closely as the next tankard was set in front of her, the original being taken away, "You're not a city elf either. So. What do you count yourself as?"

"A weapon."

"That's a strange thing to think of yourself as."

"Not really," She shrugged, tracing the rim of her tankard with a rather long, delicate looking finger, even by elf standards, "All I have – had – were my family and my swords. So, we trained. We became the best at what we do. We never had a clan. If we did, we don't really remember it. We didn't like the city. Orphan elves in a city would be killed pretty quick, and we were nearish to Denerim. So, I'm not Dalish, I'm not a city elf... I'm a weapon. I'm a weapon because I fight and it's what I do best. Except for maybe drinking."

"Hmm..." Solas' eyes held a calculating gleam in them, "What is it you're doing here?" He asked.

"Getting caught in explosions, obviously."

"But what brought you here in the first place?" Instead of answering, Siara took her first drink from the fresh tankard. Then she watched him, tracing patterns on the table top with one finger while in her other hand rested the tankard.

"Why so many questions?" She asked, "Why was there an explosion? What caused it? And what is being done about it?" Solas smiled. He couldn't help it. This girl was smart.

"A rift to the Fade was opened." He explained. Siara clearly didn't believe him.

"The Fade?" She asked, "That place we go when we die and dream and so on?"

"Yes." A shiver ran down her spine, though she didn't show it.

"OK, let's say for a moment I believe you," She leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs, "What caused this in the first place?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Solas frowned slightly, "It was more a 'who' than a 'what' as far as we can tell."

"From what you can tell?"

"I'm afraid I can say no more."

"Oh dear, what a shame. Just as I was beginning to get interested, too." Solas scoffed, taking his first sip of his drink. At that moment the door swung open, a stench Siara knew all too well being wafted to her on a breeze. She pulled a face, covering her nose with the back of her hand. The smell itself wasn't even all that bad, maybe even almost nice, but for Siara it held negative memories. She hated everything to do with templars and the Chantry, and as a result she also hated the smell of lyrium. In the doorway stood a human – though that wasn't surprising. He had blond hair and gave the impression of being someone in some kind of high ranking position, but judging by the way he walked he certainly wasn't born a noble and she doubted he was one now. For a templar he wasn't too bad looking. Hell, for a human he wasn't too bad looking, perhaps his most distinguishing feature being a small scar above his lip. Solas raised a hand in greeting and the man started walking over, the smell of lyrium growing stronger.

"Siara, this is Commander Cullen Rutherford, military commander of the Inquisition."

"It's a pleasure."

"Wish I could say the same," Siara muttered before drinking more, but not finishing it, "No offense, but I do have this thing about templars."

"What do you have against templars?" Cullen asked, "And how did you know I was a templar once?". Siara shrugged, but Solas saw the look that briefly passed through her eyes. The hurt. The anger. The hatred. And regret. There was definitely regret in there too. Perhaps... fear? The previous emotions had confused him enough. But why would someone other than a mage fear templars...?

"You smell of lyrium, even if it's not as strongly as people taking the stuff do. As for why I don't like templars… I don't understand how anyone can want to control someone else." There was obviously more to it. Even Cullen could probably figure that out.

"Mages can be dangerous," He looked so unimpressed, "That's why there are templars."

"Why do you believe in that so strongly? Why only specifically mages? Anyone can be dangerous, even those without magic. I'm sure you've taken the lives of many people. Why is it that only mages are called dangerous? And do you really think that every mage out there is going to do something stupid like the Chantry seems to think they will? Like Anders did?" Cullen eyes narrowed and Siara smirked, "See? Even you have a little bit of doubt somewhere in there." She finished the rest of her drink and slammed the tankard down on the table, making a satisfying thunk. Slowly she turned to face Solas, her eyes cold. He looked at her with his head leaned to the side slightly.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Any more questions?" She shrugged, "Or can I just start drinking in peace?"

"By the looks of things, you've already been drinking."

"No one asked your opinion, templar," Siara didn't take her eyes off Solas, "So? Your answer?"

"Tell me about who you lost."

"My brother?"

"Yes."

"I tell you about my brother and you get me my stuff back?"

"Yes "

"He was my twin. We were super close. Could trust each other with everything. He was a good guy. I watched his back, he watched mine."

"Was," Cullen said, making Siara look around at him, "What happened?"

"What do you _think_ happened?" Siara snarled, "The bloody conclave blew up when we were inside." Not the full truth, but that didn't matter.  
"How come you survived and he didn't?"

"How should I know? I don't remember anything that happened. Why not ask your precious Trevelyan? Oh, right. She doesn't remember anything either."

"You have a bit of a temper, don't you?"

"My brother just died, and I'm being treated like a suspect," Siara growled, "Andraste's tits, what the hell do you expect?"

"I think we've asked enough questions," Solas cut in before Cullen could say anything else to anger Siara, "Cullen, what are your thoughts on Trevelyan?" Siara only half listened. It was only just hitting her now. Her brother was gone. He wasn't just out on a solo mission. He was actually gone. Not coming back. It made her feel vaguely sick. So instead of thinking about it she looked around for the woman serving, raising her hand to show she needed another drink.

* * *

"I'm right here..." He leaned on the table, looking at Siara, "I'm right here," He repeated, "Why don't you see me?" He sighed. It actually made sense, and Jacen knew that. He could remember dying, could remember how it felt. But surely his sister of all people would be able to see him? Slowly he sank into an empty chair. This wasn't how he imagined it. He had dragged her out of the Fade, even if she hadn't wanted to go. She didn't even remember that? It made some kind of sense though. The short trip back from the Fade hadn't been the easiest, and the blow from the explosion wasn't the nicest one, leaving Siara unconscious for a few days. Jacen had sat through it all. He never left her side. Clearly being dead had some advantages. But now... Now he couldn't even stop her drinking, something she'd had some problems with since she was around fourteen years old. She just needed to forget. That was all. But she didn't know when to stop. That or she did but chose not to. Siara being Siara it could be hard to tell. Even for Jacen. He sighed and looked at the two men with her. Solas and Cullen. Just by looking at them he could make a few good guesses as to what they were like. Clearly Solas was more than he seemed, even if Jacen couldn't explain why or how. And Cullen... Cullen had some kind of troubled background. Something to do with the templars probably. Why else would he be here instead of chasing apostates or something? He turned back to his sister, sighing slightly. What good could he be to her if he wasn't even visible?

"Please just see me..." He muttered, but no one heard him. He didn't expect them to.


	3. Invitation

Siara had a head-splitting migraine when she woke up the next day. It took a lot to get her drunk, so the hangovers she got were generally pretty nasty when she got them. The light shining in through the window assaulted her eyes and she quickly rolled away, scrunching her eyes tight shut, a groan escaping her as she grabbed her pillow and hid her head beneath it. A nearby chuckle had her hesitantly removing it and glancing around.

"Solas and Cullen told me you could drink. I suppose here's my proof." Before Siara stood a woman, who was (to say the least) very beautiful. She had long blonde hair that was so pale it was almost white, her eyes a deep blue-green, nearing aqua in colour. Her cheeks were slightly pink against her pale skin, her lips that shade of red-pink that was almost perfect. She had the smell of lyrium around her, but it wasn't strong enough to prove she took it. More likely that she hung around those that did. Instead she smelled... surprisingly nice, actually. Like cherry blossoms and... something almost similar to honey. In some ways it left Siara feeling almost jealous. She knew she didn't smell anywhere near as nice, had been told before she smelled of the deepest forests, like fresh spring water, but also blood, the tangy smell seemingly impossible to wash off. Siara blinked a couple of times before slowly sitting up, mindful of her headache.

"Were you watching me sleep? Because that wouldn't be creepy at all..."

"I wonder if you said that to Solas when he was put in charge of watching you." The woman mused.

"I was too concerned with getting booze and figuring out what the hell was going on," Siara muttered, "So who are you?"

"Jacquelyn Trevelyan. It's a pleasure to meet you, Siara." Her smile was so kind, so open, so easy going. The same smile that Siara used when trying to make people trust her. It bothered Siara, made her question if she truly could trust this woman.

"So, you went into the Fade?" Siara asked, "Like I supposedly did?"

"Yes," Jacquelyn confirmed, "Though I don't remember much. Only what we saw near the rift, and running from something." Siara sighed, standing up and walking over to a wash basin, a bucket of water sitting next to it, wrist pressed to her forehead.

"I have way too much to catch up on." She muttered as she poured some of the water into the basin before stripping off her shirt and splashing water over her face, then her bare skin.

"Indeed," Jacquelyn agreed, "It is most strange." She had a small frown on her face when Siara glanced over at her before resuming splashing the cool water over her slightly flushed skin. It felt so nice...

"What is?"

"That you and I went through the same ordeal, and yet you were unconscious for far longer. Would you not agree that it is strange?"

"I guess." Siara shrugged, shaking her hands to dry them and looking around the cabin. She was pretty happy to see her stuff had been brought in. It would be nice to be back in her own clothes, despite the skimpiness of them. Her top had a low neckline and was tight fitting, slipping on around the neck like an apron, the leather vest she wore over that top was tight-fitting around the neck, shoulders mostly free of any cover, straps and buckles over the chest and on the sides. She slipped on the shirt and then the armour, doing up the buckles, hair falling loose around her shoulders, curling ever so slightly at the tips, falling to about her waist. She looked around at Jacquelyn.

"Do me a favour and turn around?"

"Why?"

"I want to change my pants." Jacquelyn silently turned away, Siara quickly changing, sitting back on her bed and pulling on boots made of soft leather that went to above the knee, maybe mid-thigh, though there were some metal plates sewn into them for better protection, though not in places they would impede movement. Pretty much everything she wore was dark brown, the armour with purple around the edges. Then she just eyed a green ribbon. Previously it had been in her hair, a gift from her brother on their birthday. She didn't want it in her hair anymore, so instead tied it around her neck.

"How much is there going on right about now?" She asked.

"You mean aside from the sky being ripped open?"

"Well... yes." Jacquelyn thought for a moment.

"Divine Justinia is dead."

"Big whoop."

"Do you have any idea of the implications?" Jacquelyn snapped, then rapidly regained composure, "I apologise, I should not have snapped."

"Don't worry about it," Siara shrugged, tying up her laces, "I know the implications. Local distress, holy war, trying to figure out who is going to be the next divine, and on top of all that there is still the war between mages and templars going on. I think I have a half decent idea of the consequences of Justinia dying. Any clue who did it?"

"She died as part of the Rift being opened, so whoever opened the Rift, that is our murderer."

"I could have guessed that," Siara scoffed, placing her feet flat on the ground and resting her elbows on her knees, "Any idea who it is though?"

"All we know is that a man did this."

"Oh good. You narrowed the search down from one hundred percent of the population to fifty percent. Which is still an excessively high number."

"We are trying." Jacquelyn ground her teeth together. Siara didn't move, just looked at the woman.

"I know you are. But this is a lose-lose situation for you. This guy has all the good cards. You? You only have threes. Most useless cards available."

"Why do you think we don't stand a chance? You don't even know us, don't know what we can do, yet you still judge us?"

"Pretty much." Her eyes landed on the bracelet and a pang of guilt shot through her body. She hid it as best she could before she slipped it on, pulling her jacket on and pulling the sleeves down to cover it once again. Jacquelyn took a deep breath and sat up straighter, fixing Siara with her rather beautiful eyes.

"Solas said you told him you are a fighter."

"That I am."

"How good are you?"

"Ever heard of the Blade?" Siara looked up from where the bracelet was hiding under the sleeve, watching as Jacquelyn's already large eyes grew larger.

"You... you're her?" She asked hesitantly. Siara shrugged, then nodded. Jacquelyn regarded her more closely. Obviously she was thinking at a fast rate, but also thinking things through carefully. Siara raised an elegantly arched eyebrow.

"What?" She asked, rather grumpily.

"We need good fighters for whatever is coming," Jacquelyn weighed each word carefully before speaking, "If you are who you say you are... would you consider joining us?" Now it was Siara's turn to think. She watched Jacquelyn closely.

"My fighting days are over," She replied eventually, "Especially for people like you." She stood up and grabbed her twin blades before leaving the room, now with pretty much everything she came with. Jacquelyn followed her out.

"It's not just us in danger, Siara. It's the whole world, as far as we know. There is no knowing how far this will go, we need all the help we can get!"

"I said no. I have better things to do than play soldiers. Especially if it's soldiers for a spoilt little rich kid who places every ounce of faith they have in the Maker who, chances are, doesn't exist," Siara turned and faced Jacquelyn again, the human woman stopping in the doorway, "It's obvious you like me even less than I like you. Stop making things more difficult for yourself." Jacquelyn frowned slightly.

"Whether or not I like you has nothing to do with this. We need help. I am not too proud to admit that. Having someone around with your skill would be useful. And besides, I haven't known you long enough to have any real opinions of you."

"I'm a sell sword, an elf, and it's pretty well known that my sister was a maleficar. Pretty sure you don't need to know me very long to decide you don't like me. No one ever does," She shook her head, "You should know that whatever you say, I'm not going to change my mind. I'm not joining your Inquisition. Whatever happened here has already taken my brother's life, I'm not going to let it take mine too."

"So you're a coward?"

"Excuse me?"

"Running away as soon as something goes wrong? That's the behaviour of a coward. Putting yourself before others? A selfish coward." Siara smirked.

"You thought I was anything other than selfish? Everything I do is for myself. Survival of the fittest, honey. Not everyone is as good and selfless as your precious templars." Then she turned and left, Jacquelyn not even bothering to try and persuade her to stay anymore.

* * *

Jacen sat near Siara on a roof, watching people passing by below. Somehow, she'd managed to swipe a pipe from someone and was puffing away on it rather lazily, little smoke circles floating up and away. Jacen had always hated this habit of hers. Whenever she got too stressed or depressed about something she'd turn to the pipe. Or drinking. Or both. It annoyed him. He sighed, looking at the horizon. It was a beautiful day. He half smiled.

"You remember the last time we were near here?" He asked, even though he knew she couldn't hear him, "Mara had to wear that stupid headpiece to try and avoid being recognized," He looked back at Siara, "We couldn't stop laughing at her. Then she said you had to wear one too," Now he chuckled, "The look on your face was priceless. Kinda wish we could've had it framed." Now Siara looked up, looking over the horizon, a far away look in her eyes. Jacen sighed, somehow at the same time as Siara. He kept watching her, then shook his head.

"I'm so sorry for leaving you on your own," He muttered, "If I could change it I would. I never meant to leave you on your own. Even though I know you can't hear me..." He looked down at the people passing below again, then frowned, Siara also looking down, the exact same frown appearing on her face. She stood up and took the pipe from her mouth, crossing to the edge of the roof as two raven-like birds flew past in opposite directions, Siara briefly pausing to watch them before jumping down off the roof and heading over to the dwarf that she and Jacen had spotted, Jacen not too far behind her.

"It's been a while, Varric." She greeted. The dwarf looked around, taken by surprise, then grinned.

"If it isn't the Blade!" He reached up and clapping her on the shoulder, "Half wondered what happened to you during the Blight." Siara shrugged.

"Jacen and I continued on as normal. There were plenty of jobs, even if most of them were escorting people. Who says you need to be a Grey Warden to fight darkspawn? Though, having a Warden as king is interesting.

"What makes you say that?" Varric asked. Jacen smirked.

"Because Siara has a thing for King Alistair." He joked, despite no one being able to hear him.

"I haven't heard of many Wardens being put in positions of power like this. Now Ferelden's king is a Warden? I dunno, I just find it interesting," She shrugged, "Anyway, last I heard you were running around with a rather rag-tag bunch of misfits who are now pretty much all wanted. That true?"

"Yeah, well... Hawke, he has a way of getting into trouble."

"So why are you here? Right under the Chantry's nose, of all places."

"I managed to get caught."

"Well done you." Siara scoffed, a small smile appearing upon her face. Varric nodded.

"Oh yeah. Great job," He frowned slightly, looking around, "So where's Jacen?" Siara frowned, a small sigh escaping her while Jacen put a finger to his chin, thinking.

"I'm right in front of you, buddy. Only problem is I'm kinda dead and now a spirit, so you can't exactly see me for some reason. Or hear me. So technically even though I'm talking to you, I'm actually talking to myself. The joys."

"He's gone."

"Oh, Namasiara, I'm not gone. I'm right here. Not my fault you're blind and can't see me. Not exactly your fault either, mind you."

"Gone?" Varric frowned, "What do you mean, 'Gone'?"

"I mean he's dead."

"Well... shit," Varric looked at Siara apologetically, "I'm sorry, Spooks."

"One of us was going to die eventually," Siara shrugged, "Nothing anyone could do about it." Varric nodded, understanding without being told that she really didn't want to talk about it.

"So, what are you doing here?" He asked.

"Had a job," Siara shrugged, "Then the Conclave blew up. Wonder if the Job is still running around here somewhere or if he got caught in the explosion."

"You amaze me sometimes, Spooks." Varric shook his head, a small smile on his face. Siara raised an eyebrow.

"How this time?"

"Still thinking of finishing the job, even with the world going to shit."

"It's because the world is going to shit I need to do the job so badly," Siara shrugged, "Gives me something to concentrate on other than what's going wrong." She explained. Varric nodded, showing he understood. Siara clicked her neck, running a hand through her hair. Varric pointed at the pipe.

"Didn't know you smoked." He said. Siara shrugged again.

"Something to do while planning my next move," She explained, "What do you think of the Trevelyan?"

"Got something she never wanted thrust upon her, but gonna do what good she can with it."

"Mmm... I feel like she's going to try and play me at some point... I don't trust her."

"Don't you just love it when you have an immediate dislike for someone?" Varric grinned, "Really warms the heart."

"I'm serious, Varric." Siara muttered.

"You see way too much of yourself in that woman, Siara. That's why you don't trust her." Jacen muttered, rolling his eyes. Sometimes his sister could be blind in an excruciatingly painful way. Varric slowly nodded, taking her warning seriously.

"You gonna stick around?" He asked, "We could really use the Blade around about now."

"Trevelyan already asked me. Until someone offers me money for it, I'm not going to. Plus, I have another job I need to finish."

"That's just like you, isn't it." Varric shook his head, but was still smiling. Siara smiled.

"You expected anything less?"

"Nah, you're still that kid I met twelve years ago."

"I always will be."

"Will you?"

"I can't exactly just turn the part that makes me Siara off, can I?"

"As much as I'd like you to be able to..." Jacen muttered, but Varric just chuckled.

"That's true." They turned and watched as a crowd started forming, Siara and Jacen frowning slightly.

"Think we should see what's going on?" Siara asked. Varric nodded and they slowly made their way to where the crowd was formed, pushing their way forward through the people to get to the front. Jacen followed behind them, looking up the steps at the collected group of people. He frowned slightly. Jacquelyn stood in the middle wearing simple armour, lightweight but would still offer some protection. Her hair was braided and falling over one shoulder, reflecting off the snow. She looked serious, but comfortable with the situation. Behind her stood Cullen and two women, one with dark skin and hair, one with a hood pulled up, hiding her hair. Beside Jacquelyn stood the short haired woman that had found Siara.

"They look like a formidable team, Namasiara," Jacen muttered, "You sure you don't want to rethink your position?" Siara frowned slightly, even though she couldn't hear him. They were twins. They'd always be able to know what the other would be thinking. Well, almost. In situations like this, anyway.

"Anyone would think we're preparing for war." Varric snorted.

"That's because we are." Siara muttered back, Varric frowning and looking up at her.

"How do you know?" Siara calmly motioned at the breach.

"The Fade doesn't just open," She explained, "Someone will have found a way to open it, I'm sure."

"You changing your mind?"

"No chance," She shook her head, Jacen sighing, "The world won't end simply because I turn away from the problem. I ain't a big shot hero."

"And you think I am?" Varric snorted again, Siara half smiling, though it wasn't a nice smile.

"You're still hanging around, aren't you?" She asked, "Besides, you seem to have a thing for adventure."

"That's true," Varric agreed, the crowd slowly dispersing, "Makes for better stories." Siara watched for a moment as Jacquelyn turned to her commanders, sharing a quick word with them. She seemed different when with people who she viewed as equals. That didn't seem to be an uncommon trait in human nobility.

"I'll stick around," Siara said, "For as long as there are jobs here. I wasn't given a time limit for my last job, so may as well." She explained, though it was obviously just a poor excuse.

"You just don't want to go back to see that guy because you blame him for my death." Jacen muttered, folding his arms. It was mildly annoying how no one could notice him. Varric didn't say anything, just looked up as Jacquelyn beckoned to him, sighing.

"Glad to hear you plan on sticking round," He said, pointing a thumb in Jacquelyn's direction, "But duty calls." Siara nodded.

"OK. Have fun with... whatever." She started backing away, throwing a smile back at him before vanishing. Jacen sighed.

"This is ridiculous. You're ridiculous, Siara. And an idiot. And a hundred and one other things." He muttered as he stalked off after her, her silent and invisible guardian.

* * *

Nothing was stopping her. Nothing. So why didn't she just do the job she was meant to and… leave? She sighed, continuing to search around the hut for whatever it was the alchemist doctor person was after. This was just boring. Of course, she couldn't hear Jacen scoff and tell her she brought this on herself. But she imagined that's what he would be saying if he was there. She found the notes and started looking around again. Perhaps there were other objects of interest in this area? Though she doubted it. She could still hear the bustle of Haven, even when she was right at the edge of the keep. She sighed, sitting down on a slightly older looking desk, crossing her legs and staring at the notes in her hands, lost in thought. Her mind wasn't working properly, her judgement clouded. It was the only solution to her question that Siara could come up with. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, but she was starting to get stiff when she stood up, which hinted towards it having been a decent while. So she headed back, dropped off the notes, and got waylaid by Solas.

"Mildly surprised to see you're still around." He said in greeting. Siara shrugged.

"I could say the same about you. An apostate elf sticking around? What's keeping you here?" Solas smiled.

"There are tears in the Vale. I've spent majority of my life studying the Fade. I suppose it could be helpful to others if I stick around for a bit."

"Perhaps," Siara admitted, "But what happens if you outstay your welcome?" Jacquelyn appeared before Solas had a chance to respond.

"Solas, I'd like you to accompany me to the Hinterlands," It was now she noticed Siara, smiling at the female elf, "Siara, if you want you could -"

"Nah, I'm good. I should let you lot discuss this and get ready. Chances are I'll be gone before you return, so thanks for everything, have a good life, good luck with the rifts, all that kind of stuff. Tell Varric I say bye, and... yeah, think that's everything. Nice meeting you lot."

"Siara -"

"No, Trevelyan. I am not reconsidering." Siara said, rather firmly, then walked off, waving without looking back.

"I wonder if she's always been this way." Solas pondered as they watched her walk off, Jacquelyn frowning ever so slightly.

"I believe Varric would be best suited to answer that question if you really wish to have it answered," She muttered, turning back to Solas, "Make sure you are prepared to leave within the hour. I would like to reach the Hinterlands as soon as possible."

"Of course."


	4. The Lord

The party selected by Jacquelyn waited by the gates for her to arrive, then waiting a little longer for Varric, who seemed more than willing to make everyone wait on him. He started to jog when he saw them all waiting, Bianca safely secured on his back.

"Nice of you to wait for me." He said, Jacquelyn smiling slightly while Cassandra looked less than impressed. It was perfectly obvious that the dwarf and the Seeker didn't overly care for each other, though they weren't about to rip each other's throats out.

"We didn't have a lot of choice." Cassandra told him, only slightly harshly.

"If you say so, Seeker." Varric smirked slightly, Cassandra grunting in annoyance.

"Can we just get a move on?" She asked, Jacquelyn and Solas sharing a look, Jacquelyn slightly amused, Solas maybe slightly resigned, though his expression was still more unreadable than most.

"Please tell me the whole trip isn't going to be like this." The Trevelyan almost groaned, maybe a hint of laughter on her voice.

"Only most of it, I expect." Solas told her.

"Hilarious." Cassandra muttered, starting to walk off, Varric grinning as the rest of them started to follow, turning and walking backwards for a moment, raising a hand to Siara, who stood watching them from the wall, her face blank, which seemed to have become a bit of a norm for her. After Jacen's death, it was hardly surprising. He just wasn't entirely expecting Siara to be quite like... this. Solas dropped back to be walking beside him, raising a hand in farewell to Siara, who absently raised a hand in return.

"How long have you known Siara for?" He asked Varric, who had returned to walking the right way around. The dwarf thought for a moment.

"Around twelve years, I believe."

"That's a long time."

"That it is."

"I assume you know her quite well, then?"

"Why are you asking me this stuff, Chuckles?" Varric was getting vaguely suspicious by now. He was rather protective of Siara, though he knew perfectly well that the young elf was perfectly capable of looking after herself.

"I am merely curious about how much she has changed due to recent events."

"You mean her brother getting killed?"

"Among other things."

"She's been through some rough shit, believe me," Varric almost growled out, "But this... this is still fresh, still new to her. She'll pull through. If I were you, I'd just be careful she's not manipulating you. She's good at that."

"Why would she manipulate me?" Solas asked, surprised by this statement.

"The moment you know what is going through that girl's head is generally the moment before she kills someone. I wouldn't take the possibility of her manipulating you as an insult. I'd just be careful. Make sure it isn't you she's planning on killing." Solas frowned at this, but nodded, seeing no need for any further questions.

* * *

Meanwhile, Siara was busy getting a few things together in preparation to leave. First, she would return to where she'd been expelled from the Fade. Perhaps she'd be able to find something of Jacen's there, though she doubted it. Then she'd continue on, find that blood mage again. Get the second half of her payment. Maybe use him as a punching bag for getting her brother killed. Her teeth started grinding together as rage boiled inside her. She'd like to do a whole heap worse than use the guy as a punching bag. She was planning just what she would like to do to the guy, her packing growing more and more messy, with more force, when someone knocked on the door. She stopped, waiting for herself to calm a moment before she went and wrenched it open. Cullen stood there.

"What do you want?" She asked, clearly unimpressed, "I'm busy."

"This isn't a social call," Cullen told her, also not seeming too happy about being there, but able to hide it a little better than the elf, "I have a job for you, if you'd like it. I hear you've been doing random jobs around the keep, thought you might like something more interesting." Siara stood glaring up at him for a moment longer before she shoved the door open the rest of the way, heading back to her bag.

"Talk." She ordered, Cullen stepping inside, watching her as she continued packing, rearranging things to fit more neatly now that she was concentrating on something else.

"We received word from Lord Kildarn," He explained, hand resting on the pommel of his blade, "Apparently there are refugees on his lawn and he's suspicious of them."

"Kildarn is an idiot. Likes to throw his weight around, thinks he's more important than he actually is. Not as smart as he likes to think, either."

"You know of him?"

"Of course I do," Siara stood up straight, flicking her hair out of her face and looking at Cullen, "Jacen participated in an archery competition he was holding while I snuck in and laced his food with a mild laxative. Don't ask me why someone wanted to give the guy the runs, but they paid decently," She shrugged, "So what do you want me to do to the guy?"

"A mild... never mind. I'm sending patrols to the area. If possible, I would like to give aid to the refugees."  
"And?"

"And I would like you to go with them."

"How much are you going to pay?"

"How much are you asking?"

"Since it's dealing with refugees, I'll give you a discount. Plus there's only one of me now, so... we'll make it transportation cost and feeding, then round it so you end up paying around eighty gold all together." Cullen looked surprised.

"All things considered, that's... rather cheap of you."

"Don't get used to it," Siara turned and flung her bag over a shoulder, turning once more to look at Cullen, "So, when do I leave?"

"As soon as my men are ready."

"Well tell them to hurry up. Or I'll leave without them." Siara told him, striding past him and out the door, bag flung over her shoulder. Cullen watched after her a moment, slightly taken back by her abruptness, but soon shook himself out of his stupor and went to check on his men. Siara was certainly an... interesting character. But he couldn't say he liked her overly much, though that might have been partially because she quite clearly was not overly fond of him, or any templar for that matter. Clearly she didn't understand everything that templars went through, didn't seem to understand their addiction. Or the withdrawals. He rubbed the back of his neck at the thought. Thankfully today wasn't one of the worse days. For once his limbs barely even ached, and his mind was clear enough to think without struggling through the pain. Trevelyan seemed to better understand what was going on with the templars, though. She seemed like a fine woman, less short tempered than Siara, at any rate. Now Cullen was rubbing his neck for an entirely different reason. Why _had_ Trevelyan asked those questions? Maker, she seemed intent on making him feel as uncomfortable as possible. The way those aqua eyes had glinted... Cullen cleared his throat, forcing all these thoughts as far from his mind as he could as he approached his recruits, his hand once more resting on the pommel of his sword.

* * *

Siara was lent a boring chestnut horse with white splotches and a white star on his forehead. His mane seemed a little tatty in places, but on the whole he was a nice enough horse. The elf sat upon him surprisingly well, considering she usually walked everywhere. Travelling as much as she did hardly allowed for horses being practical. The troops she was sent with didn't bother hiding their whispering. Some of them clearly knew who she was, and the news was passing through the ranks. It took a while, but eventually a young man steered his horse up beside hers, a dark grey one with even darker grey specks. The lad himself was maybe in his early twenties, at most, with dark grey eyes and black hair half tied up, the sides shaved, a scar running along his jawline. He seemed a little awkward about talking to her, perhaps a little awestruck.

"Is what they're saying true?" He asked. Siara looked around at him, leaning her head to the side slightly.

"What are they saying?" She asked, perfectly politely.

"They're saying that you're the Blade," He told her, "That you've killed dragons, that you fought in the Blight even though you were just a kid." Siara smiled slightly as she returned to looking ahead of her, scoffing slightly.

"Yeah… the dragon killing is going a bit far. Young ones, sure. Full grown dragons, not so much. Them you're better off having a group of people, all with enough experience to know what they're doing. I've never been called in to fight one."

"Oh…" The boy looked a little disappointed, "But you did fight during the Blight?"

"Yes."

"How old were you?"

"I would have been somewhere around twelve, maybe thirteen, fourteen at oldest."

"By the Maker…" Siara's eye crinkled slightly at the corners in her amusement, the boy watching her intently, "That's… wow…" Siara just shrugged, flicking her hair out of her eyes. She really needed something to tie it up with.

"So… what was the hardest battle you fought?"

"Couldn't tell you."

"They're all so easy?" He sounded almost hopeful, but Siara just laughed.

"No, because things have changed so much since I was a kid. I don't know which one would have been the most difficult fight I've had. There was one time my brother and I had to fight a Wyvern. That one was interesting."

"Go on!" One of the party members called out from behind them, "Tell us the story!" The rest of the trip was spent sharing stories, mostly the younger recruits begging Siara for tales of her life as the Blade.

* * *

Many of the refugees didn't even have shelter, sitting out in the mud and rain when the small group arrived. Siara frowned. They shouldn't be being treated like this. Sure, there were elves around the place. But there were children among the refugees, human and elven alike. A group of Inquisition Soldiers already stationed there came over to the new comers, lead by a tall woman with rather broad shoulders, her brown hair shaved short. Her grey eyes were old, but still sharp. She was obviously a woman you wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of.

"You lot are late," She snapped as she strode up, "Split off into teams of two and peer off with a patrol each," Her eyes lingered on Siara as the reinforcements headed off, doing as they were bid, "I'm Captain Tilma Frost. I recognise every one of the reinforcements, except for you. Introduce yourself, soldier." Siara scoffed, eyeing Frost up. Another one who _clearly_ demanded respect. Semi annoying.

"Siara," She replied, "And I'm not a soldier."

"Then why are you here?" Frost demanded, "We need soldiers here, not more refugees." Siara raised an eyebrow, shifting slightly so the blades on her back moved. They were matching, clearly crafted from strong materials, one shimmering golden in the light, the other black.

"Do I really look like a refugee to you?" She asked, "Commander Rutherford sent me. Wanted me to help with this situation." Now it was Frost's turn to look unimpressed.

"What good can you do?" She demanded.

"More than you can, apparently, else I wouldn't have been sent." Siara smiled, overly kindly, then pushed past Frost and started walking through the camp, ignoring the glare that was being shot at her back. There were some whispers passing through the crowds as she walked, some people clearly recognising her for who she was, but not many. It was understandable, she generally worked in higher circles than this. Most of the people here would probably be guessing, just judging by her blades and her armour. If they got close enough to see her eye colour they might know for certain, but none of those whispering as she passed would be able to see them. She flicked her hair back out of her eyes. It was starting to get annoying. Perhaps she should cut it… It would probably still get in her eyes.

"Hey, Siara!" It was the kid that had been interrogating her on the trip over, waving her over to the group he had joined, "Want to join?" He asked. She shrugged, then made her way over to them. It was as good a place to be as any.

* * *

Jacquelyn looked out over the crossroads, breathing heavily, her sword hanging loosely in one hand, her shield still strapped to her other arm. Fighting templars just felt… _wrong_. She was planning on becoming one once upon a time, and now she was fighting them? It wasn't right… But it had to be done. They were out of control.

"You alright, Princess?" Varric asked, Jacquelyn looking down at him and half smiling.

"Just a bit out of shape." She replied, sheathing her sword and putting her shield on her back, taking a deep breath before slowly releasing it. Varric watched her carefully for a moment longer before casually leaning against a nearby post.

"Something's bothering you," He said, "Want to talk about it?" A sigh escaped Jacquelyn and she looked around at the dwarf, long blonde hair escaping from the bunch of braids she'd put it in to try and keep it out of her face.

"This all feels wrong," She explained, looking out at all the people walking around, beginning to clear the area of bodies, people who she had killed, "None of this should be happening. If that mage hadn't…" She sighed, "Maybe things would be different if the war between mages and templars had never started."

"Try talking to Anders about that one." Varric told her, not seeming very happy about the topic. Jacquelyn looked around at him in surprise, remembering his connection with all this.

"Varric, I didn't mean –"

"Relax, it's not you I'm angry with," Varric told her, smiling kindly, "Anyway, didn't we come here so you could talk with someone?" He reminded her, Jacquelyn nodding and smiling in return.

"Thanks, Varric," She said, then headed off to find Mother Giselle. The woman was helping with the injured, trying to soothe a man who was terrified of a mage coming near him, using magic on him. Jacquelyn walked over and knelt beside him.

"They can help," She assured him, "With so many people around, they will not hurt you. Or they will suffer the consequences." Mother Giselle watched Jacquelyn closely, possibly a little uncertain about the young woman's words. The soldier, however, seemed to calm a lot.

"Okay," He forced out, terror still thick on his voice, "Okay." He leaned back, and Jacquelyn stood up, Mother Giselle following suit, and they walked away as the soldier was healed.

"You handled that well." Mother Giselle told her, Jacquelyn shrugging slightly.

"I did what I could."

"Did you have to talk about the mages in such a way?" Jacquelyn frowned slightly.

"I don't think of them in that way, Mother. But many do, including that young soldier. What I said was what he needed to hear."

"I see." Mother Giselle still didn't seem far too happy about it.

"You're with the Chantry," Jacquelyn pointed out, "Do you not feel similarly about mages?"

"The Chantry does not teach that magic is evil," Giselle explained, stopping and turning to face Jacquelyn, "We teach that pride is evil, and that doesn't corrupt only mages."  
"But your view of magic?" Jacquelyn asked, "How do you feel about it?"

"I believe that it is not something to be feared, that it is something that can be used for good." Jacquelyn smiled, nodding slightly.

"That is what I believe," She agreed, "Only I see that many fear it, and as such I know how to adjust to those beliefs, know what to say to make others feel at more ease around mages. Not all mages are evil, just as not all those without magic are good. For me, the key is figuring what to say in what situation. And that man needed assurance that no one was going to hurt him, understandable, too. mages are going mildly insane, as are many templars," She looked down and away for a moment, "Anyway, you wanted to see me?" She asked, bringing the conversation around to the purpose of her being there. Giselle leaned her head forward slightly in acknowledgement.

"Indeed," She confirmed, "The world is in chaos, our divine dead, and rifts are appearing throughout Thedas. On top of all that, the Chantry denounces you and the Inquisition."

"They need to stop worrying about my being called the Herald of Andraste and start worrying about the rifts."

"Precisely. You need to go to them, show them that you are no one to be feared."

"You think I should go to them?"

"Yes."

"They want me dead."

"They are afraid," Giselle explained, "Many are. You need to show them that they are wrong." Jacquelyn thought for a moment.

"I think you're right," She agreed, then nodded, stepping back slightly and bowing, "Thank you, Mother Giselle."

"I…" Giselle was taken by surprise at Jacquelyn's actions, "I shall do what I can to help. I shall go to Haven, do what I can to help the refugees." She finished once she managed to get past the surprise. Jacquelyn nodded again.

"I appreciate it. I'll do what I can here then head back to Haven myself."

* * *

They'd just gotten in from patrol, and the rain hadn't let up. If anything, it had gotten heavier. Siara stood there watching, frowning slightly.

"They need more shelter…" She muttered.

"Kildarn wants them gone," The dark-haired boy said, "They're not about to get any." Siara looked around at him, thinking.

"There has to be something we can do."

"With Kildarn and Captain Tilma's consent, then sure. But without it…" Siara sighed, then stepped out into the rain. She was still wet from patrol, her armour needing a good clean, but she didn't care. She walked through the refugees, watching them, seeing some of them huddled together, their fires slowly being put down by the ever-increasing rain. Why couldn't Kildarn see that these people needed help? She stopped in front of a young child that was crying, clutching a ragged, soaked doll to her chest.

"Hey, you alright?" She asked gently, kneeling before the kid. The girl sobbed, clutching the doll closer.

"Mama said…" She sniffed, "Mama said I'm not meant t-to talk to strangers." Siara smiled, nodding.

"It's a good bit of advice," She agreed, "Kinda wish my mama had told me that. Maybe then I'd still be at home," The kid didn't reply, "I'm Siara. What's your name?"

"Lily." The girl sniffed, shivering slightly.

"Well, Lily, where's your mother?"

"I don't know, sh-she went to find food and hasn't come back."

"How about I help you look for her? I'm sure she can't have gotten far."

"B-but your eyes are creepy." Siara blinked a couple of times, then smiled, nodding.

"Yeah, they kinda are, aren't they? Wish I could change them, maybe a pretty blue? I think I'd suit blue eyes," The kid almost smiled, burying her face in her doll, "So how about it?" Siara asked, "Want to go find your mum?" The kid slowly nodded and Siara stood up, offering her hand down for the child to take. Lily took it readily, still clutching the doll tightly to her.

"What do you think you're doing?" Siara knew that voice. Her expression darkened, and she slowly turned to face Kildarn.

"Decided to come down off your high throne and slum it with the refugees, have you my lord?" She asked, her voice thick with sarcasm and barely contained hatred, perhaps a hint of boredom.

"Siara." He returned, his voice just as dark.

"It's been a while. How's the health?" She asked, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. Lily half hid herself behind Siara, not liking how the adults were talking. Kildarn simply scowled, his two guards resting their hands on the pommels of their swords. Siara calmly reached up rest her hand on the hilt of one of her blades, giving Kildarn's men a half smile.

"You sure that's a smart move?" They shared a look before lowering their hands. Siara smiled properly, though her eyes were still harsh, calculating, trained on them. She slowly lowered her own hand, shaking her hair back out of her face.

"That's what I thought."

"What is your business here, Blade?" Kildarn demanded.

"It's what I'm being paid to do," Siara told him, "Help the refugees. Do your job for you."

"The Inquisition is meant to be removing the bastards!"

"The Inquisition is a decent organisation," Siara snapped back, "Doing your job for you. You're a lord, this is what _you_ should be doing."

"You cannot tell me what I should be doing!" By now a crowd was forming, refugees and Inquisition soldiers alike, watching with rapt attention as the elven mercenary faced down the human lord, "You have no right!"

"And you have no right to be condemning these people!"

"Siara!" Frost snapped, struggling to push her way through the crowds, "Stand down immediately!" She was still too far away. There was no way she could stop Siara.

"How dare –"

"I challenge you," Siara's voice was suddenly cold, calculated, "Pick your champion. A fight to the death, or to surrender. Winner chooses what happens to the –"

"I accept," Kildarn cut her off, "If my man wins, the heretics leave." Siara inclined her head slightly.

"If I win, the refugees stay, and you help them. Provide them with shelter. Without complaining." Kildarn scowled, but stepped forward and shook Siara's hand.

"Done," He agreed, "Today, nightfall."

"You always did have a flair for the dramatic, _my lord_." Kildarn scowled, then turned and marched off, his guards following close behind him. Siara looked down at the kid, a slightly concerned frown creasing her forehead. She turned and knelt down before her again, resting her hands on the girl's shoulders.

"Are you okay?" She asked. The girl nodded slightly.

"I want my mama…" She whispered. Siara nodded.

"We'll go find her, shall we?"

"Siara!" Frost snapped again, now reaching Siara, placing a hand on her shoulder as she stood up, spinning the elf around to face her, "What, by Andraste's flaming pyre, was going through your head when you challenged him?" She demanded.

"More than was going through yours when you let him spend days walking all over you and the refugees," Siara spat back, "The way you were going, _nothing_ was going to get done about this situation."

"Please don't fight…" Lily whimpered, but Frost was fired up, and Siara sure as Hell wasn't going to let her win.

"This was none of your concern."

"Yes, it really was. I got paid to be here, got paid to help. The sooner I get the job done, the sooner we can all head back."

"You've been here a day," Frost growled, "You don't have the authority –"

"I have plenty of authority," Siara's voice was low, menacing, "I don't report to anyone except myself. I have a job to do, and I will stop at _nothing_ to get it done. Are we clear? Or do I have to fight you, too?" Frost and Siara stood there glaring at each other for a while longer before Frost growled, then backed down, turning away and pushing back through the crowds. Siara let out an annoyed breath, not quite a growl, but not a sigh either.

"Come on," She said, her voice returning to surprisingly gentle, "Let's go find your mum."

* * *

 **Slightly longer chapter! I think... In celebration of...! 3 out of 4 exams done! Woo!**

 **Another thing, if you lot have any of the war table quests that you'd like to kinda read about, to a certain extent that's what Siara will be going off and doing. I think. So feel free to PM me or leave a suggestion in the reviews if you want. I'm open to suggestions. Also if you want to say which of the party members you'd like to see her interact with. At the moment I have a few set plans, but at this point in time a lot of it is flexible.**

 **So to finish this off, hope you lot are having/have had a nice day, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Maker bless you.**


	5. Angsty teenage drama

Siara stood, leaning lazily against the stone wall of the small castle that Lord Kildarn inhabited, watching as his chosen champion descended the steps, broad sword on his back. He was a large guy, clearly strong, his muscles bulging as he moved. Rather impressive looking, and rather attractive. Siara leaned her head to the side, pushing away from the wall and spitting on the grass before striding over to him. It was still raining, her hair plastered to her face where it was escaping from her ponytail. Lily's mother had given her something to tie her hair up with, which Siara had accepted gratefully. It was all the woman could offer, despite the fact that Siara would have been perfectly happy without payment. The woman and her child were standing near the front of the crowd that had gathered, the woman resting both hands on her child's shoulders, pulling her close. The young girl was still clasping the doll to her chest, eyes wide. Even the children could tell that something big was about to happen. Kildarn stood on the top of the steps, watching Siara and his champion closely. Siara looked up at him, bowed, then turned to the champion.

"Siara," She greeted, "Also known as The Blade." The man just grunted, scowling, clearly unimpressed. He stepped into a clearer area, refugees and Inquisition members parting to make more room for the battle that was about to take place. It was as if the heavens realised what was about to happen, deciding to make things as dramatic as possible. Lightning flashed through the sky, cracking as though another breach was about to open, followed by the low rumble of thunder, rain beginning to pour more heavily. Siara blinked against it, but otherwise made no objection. The wind was still pretty calm, but her skin was starting to come out in goosebumps. She was getting cold, but soon as the battle commenced she'd warm up, so she wasn't too concerned. She checked that her armguards were on properly, checking the buckles, tugging at her gloves, checking over her armour and equipment one last time. The chosen champion was doing the same.

"A battle to decide the fate of the heretics," Kildarn's voice boomed out across the crowd, "It's not too late to withdraw, Blade."

"No chance." Siara told him, her voice far quieter, but still able to be heard over the crowds. Kildarn nodded.

"Very well," He said, Siara and the champion drawing their weapons, "May the battle commence." As soon as the words left his lips, his man shot forward with a loud war cry, one that threatened the skies. The crowds faded out of existence to Siara and she shot forward to meet the man's blow, stepping around him at the last moment and moving to cut him with her dark blade, one that had been enchanted to be strong against demons and the like, a dark glow surrounding it. The champion only just managed to spin and block it, twisting his blade so he could then bring it up, trying to catch Siara with her defences down. But the elf was ready for it, once again twisting away, swiping out with her fist, catching the man on the jaw despite how much taller than her he was. A growl escaped him as she stepped away, his hand going to where the hit had collided. When he pulled his hand away to look at it there was blood on his fingers. He scowled, then glared at Siara. She just raised an eyebrow at him. With another cry to the skies he shot forward, sword raised to his side, point towards her. Siara simply rolled out of the way, mud sticking to her armour and hair, smearing her face. Slowly she stood, careful not to slip on the mud, once again eyeing up the champion. He turned to face her, hair sticking to his face from the rain, rage in his eyes.

"You die today." His voice boomed like the thunder that shook the heavens, but Siara shrugged.

"Wouldn't bother me." She told him. He frowned. He knew that an opponent with nothing to lose was dangerous, that they wouldn't fear him like they should. An opponent with no fear was dangerous, unpredictable. And looking into those strange eyes of Siara's, he could tell that she was held no fear in her. Just acceptance to the fact that she may die, here and now. It almost scared him, in a way. He had heard stories of people like this woman, heard the way they fought, the recklessness, the strength behind each blow. And defeating them could be a mission, especially if they weren't fighting angry, like this woman. He scowled, hardening himself to all these thoughts, preparing himself for another attack.

Siara lowered herself into a position with better balance, then shot forward, spinning so that both edges of both her blades would get the chosen champion, managing to cut him across the arm he put out to defend himself, the arm guard he had on falling to the mud with a dull _thunk_. He drew up his blade, swiping out and hitting the ground, sending mud spattering up everywhere, but he missed Siara. The elf had somehow vanished, reappearing once more behind him. Kildarn's champion put up his other arm to block the blow, this time managing to catch it, sparks flying as the blades collided with the metal. Siara scowled, leaping back, mud flying everywhere as she skidded to a halt. The champion once again raised his sword, lunging forward, this time managing to cut Siara's arm as she spun away, blood leaking from the wound. Siara calmly looked down at it, then shook her arm, once again watching her enemy, her forehead creased in a determined frown.

Both combatants lunged towards each other at the same time, catching each other's blades, Siara spinning slightly to the side as she deflected with her golden blade, coming up with her blackened blade and readying with the next strike, getting hit with an upper cut from Kildarn's champion, sending her sprawling backwards. The chosen champion readied his sword again, Siara quickly rolling out of the way, allowing the champion's momentum to send his sword into the ground, sticking there, allowing her a moment's advantage. He pulled his sword out as fast as he could, but Siara was quicker. She stuck her golden blade in a gap in his armour, a cry of pain escaping him. The golden blade was enchanted to hurt humans and other common beasts, so this was extra painful for the man. He released his sword, clutching his hand to the wound. Siara didn't let up. She had the advantage, she was going to take it. She spun, she danced, her blades flew, a flurry of gold and black, almost too fast for people to see. When Kildarn's champion fell backwards she stopped, one foot near his elbow, the other between his legs, right by the groin. She held one blade back, her elbow bent, the other pointed at the man's throat, chest heaving up and down. The man had his hands up towards her.

"I surrender." He told her. Siara watched him a moment longer, then stepped back and away from him, sheathing her blades before holding a hand down to help him up. He accepted it, letting her haul him to his feet. Soon as he released her hand she touched her chin, cringing as pain shot through it.

"Nice punch." She said, pulling a face before spitting blood out on the ground. Kildarn's champion scoffed.

"Didn't help me in the end." Siara scoffed.

"You weren't half bad."

"And yet you still won."

"I was lucky."

"You were terrifying," Siara frowned at that, looking up at him, "You have nothing to lose. So, you're not afraid of anything." Siara shrugged, looking back at Kildarn. The man was turning red in the face in his rage.

"I won," Siara yelled at him, "Our deal?" For a moment she didn't get a reply, her hand moving back to the blades on her back. Kildarn raised a hand, not looking in the least bit happy about the situation.

"I shall respect our agreement," He forced out through clenched teeth, "The heretics shall have our assistance." A cheer rose from the crowd and many people came forward to hug and thank Siara, who just stood there through it all, watching Kildarn closely as his chosen fighter returned to him, the way he was almost yelling at the man. Both headed inside, where no doubt the man Siara had fought would be getting an earful.

* * *

Frost read over the letter she received back from Cullen, her face sullen. He wasn't even planning on doing anything to reprimand Siara… not that there was anything he could do. The elf wasn't a member of the Inquisition. Frost sighed, a growl escaping her. She stepped away from her desk and marched through the tents to find The Blade. Frost had to hand it to the elf… she sure knew how to fight. Though the captain would never admit it, she had actually been impressed. She found Siara in her tent, combing out her hair after having a bath. The water was muddied and brown, revealing just how dirty the elf had gotten. Her right arm was bound, but clearly needed a new bandage. Evidently she didn't care if she broke stitches or not, traces of blood seeping through. A purple and yellow bruise had already formed on her chin, large and swelling slightly. She looked around slowly when he heard the tent flap open, sitting there in a loose white shirt which she hadn't done up the whole way, revealing a bit more cleavage than Frost felt comfortable with. The woman cleared her throat, pointedly ignoring it. Siara continued brushing the end of her hair, watching with those strange eyes of hers.

"You want something?" She asked.

"Message from Commander Cullen," Frost said, "For you."

"I'm guessing you've already read it?" Siara sounded almost bored as she accepted the sheet of paper, unfolding it and looking at the writing, but not bothering to read it yet. It was surprisingly tidy handwriting.

"Just read it." Frost turned away and marched out, Siara watching her go. That woman had issues. Siara shook her head, then looked at the letter properly. It was just about how he wished she'd let him know her plan, given him more time, but still congratulating her on her victory, though she had taking a rather large risk, one that might not have paid off. He signed off by wishing her a speedy recovery and telling her that she should come back once she'd made sure that everyone was settled and going to stick to their end of the bargain. A sigh escaped Siara and she put the letter down on the desk in front of her, standing up and crossing over to the tent flap.

"Someone get me paper?" She asked one of the nearby Inquisition members, who nodded and walked off, glancing down at Siara's bare legs before walking off, a little redder in the cheeks. Siara turned and headed back into her tent, the flap folding down behind her, the other man standing outside peering around to see a touch more as it fell, almost disappointed when he couldn't see any more. The Blade pulled her hair up, twirling it around into a bun before tying it up again, then went and found her leather and cotton leggings, which were still mud caked. She pulled a face before casting them aside again, looking around with her hands on her hips, unimpressed.

"My Lady…?" A hesitant voice called, Siara raising an eyebrow and once more returning to the flap. A young woman stood there, a bundle of cloth in her arms.

"Uh… yeah?"

"A gift for you, from My Lord," The young elf woman hesitantly offered the bundle, "He said that you might want a change of clothes, after the battle you had." Siara took the offered bundle, slowly and hesitantly, as though she expected something to leap out and attack her from it.

"Thanks…" She said, rather uncertainly, "And I'm not a lady. Just… Siara." The elf bowed, avoiding eye contact.

"Of course, My Lady."

"Seriously?" Siara sighed, "Whatever. That everything?"

"Yes, My Lady. Unless there is something that you desire." She clearly didn't seem happy, and Siara scowled.

"Send a message back to Kildarn," She forced out through clenched teeth, "That you are not an object to be used. You're a living being, and as such, you deserve to be treated like one. When you are finished with that, feel free to return to me. I'll make sure you are well treated, but nothing will happen to you that you do no want to. Do you understand me?" She asked, the elf looking at her with wide eyes, "Take a member of the Inquisition with you for protection purposes if that is what you wish." She looked at one of the men standing outside her tent, and he nodded.

"I…" The elf blinked a couple of times, "I don't know what to say…"

"You have nothing that you need to say to me," Siara growled, stepped back into her tent, "Leave whenever you wish." After a moment she heard the elf scamper away, feet slipping slightly in the mud. Siara threw the 'gift' on her stretcher, scoffing. A dress. Of course. Kildarn would never think to give _a mercenary_ something practical. She shook her head, another sigh escaping her, and dug through her bag once more, pulling out a clean pair of leggings, these ones just grey cotton. She slipped into them, buttoning her shirt the rest of the way up as the tent flap opened once more, one of the Inquisition soldiers standing there. Not the one she sent to grab the paper, but he had paper with him nonetheless.

"Writing paper for you, ma'am." He said, frowning slightly as he held it out to her. Siara accepted it, watching him.

"I've seen you around," She said, eyes narrowing slightly, "You seemed rather attached to your commander. What was your name, again?"

"Jim, ma'am."

"That's right…" She turned away from him, sitting at her temporary desk, "Thanks, Jim. You can go now," The soldier stood there for a moment longer, Siara looking up and glaring at the tent wall straight in front of her, "Any time now." She told him.

"Oh… right." He hurried out of the tent, Siara sighing and shaking her head. She then proceeded to put pen to paper, her handwriting messy, but also graceful in an odd way.  
 _'Your Inquisition is a mess'_ She wrote, _'Jim's just a genius in disguise, isn't he? Might take him on as my pupil at this rate. So much raw talent.  
Anyway, addressing your earlier concerns, I know what I'm doing, Commander. You're the one who hired me. If you disagree with my methods, then you shouldn't have. Everything worked out. At any rate, problem dealt with. See you in a week or two. If something more important comes up, send word and I'll return as fast as I can, even if I have to go on my own.  
-Siara_

She straightened her back and threw down the quill, rubbing her arm. She then went and sat on her stretcher, picking up her first blade and beginning to clean it while she waited for the ink to dry.

* * *

As much as Cullen would like to deny it, the letter from Siara drew a small, wry smile from him. She was right. The Inquisition was a bit of a mess. He chose to ignore the comment about Jim, though. He did what he could, that's all he could ask of anyone. He put the letter down on the stack of read papers, rubbing the back of his neck as weariness washed over him, his vision blurring for a moment. His free hand moved to his desk draw, itching to open it, to take the lyrium, but he stopped himself. He abruptly stood up from the desk he was using, heading out to check on the recruits. Jacquelyn, Varric, Solas, and Cassandra were returning at that moment. Jacquelyn was the only one Cullen took any real notice of. Her armour looked like it needed a good cleaning, and one of her cheeks had a cut on it, but other than that she looked to be in one piece. It surprised him how relieved he felt. He tried to explain it away, saying that if she died then all of Thedas would be lost, but he knew that wasn't the only reason he was glad. Especially not when she smiled at him like that. Her pale blonde hair was falling over her shoulders, escaping from her now rather messy braid, but she hardly seemed to notice as she crossed over to him, the other three walking off to… do whatever it was they were going to do. Jacquelyn's sword was at her side, shield on her back, and her chin held high.

"Everything alright?" She asked, surprisingly cheerfully for someone who had been traveling a lot recently. It was obvious to Cullen how tired she really was, despite how good she was at hiding it.

"Yes, I was just going to check on the recruits," Cullen said, motioning to where his men were training, "Was your trip to the Hinterlands successful?" Jacquelyn thought for a moment, her cheerful demeanour slipping for a moment, but it was back soon enough. Not soon enough for Cullen not to start worrying about her, though.

"I believe it was," She said, weighing each word carefully, "I believe it would be best to discuss in the War Chamber before confirming anything, though."

"Of course."

"How soon can you make it?"

"I'm sure I could put off working with the men for a short while," Cullen smiled, surprisingly easily and with very little awkwardness, despite who was standing in front of him, "When were you wanting to call the Council?"

"I should probably get cleaned up first," Jacquelyn smiled, aqua eyes shining, "Then I will be all yours." Cullen didn't know how to respond, and a part of him was actually rather grateful when she walked off to get cleaned up, even more grateful that Varric hadn't been around to make things even more awkward for him. That dwarf would be relentless in his teasing if he knew that Cullen was starting to develop certain… feelings… for the Herald.

"Maker's breath…" Cullen muttered, watching Jacquelyn for a moment more, the way her hips moved, the slight sway in her stride, watched as she pulled her braid over her shoulder, untying her hair then combing her fingers through it before shaking her head, allowing it to fall in gentle waves down her back. It was then that Cullen tore his gaze away, feeling his cheeks going mildly red. Hopefully none of his men would notice the subtle change before it vanished. It wasn't too long before Varric found his way over, looking around curiously as though looking for something – or someone. He made a b-line for Cullen, who looked down at the dwarf, unsure about how he should be feeling about this surprise visit.

"Something you want, Varric?" He asked, then went back to frowning at his recruits.

"You haven't seen Spooks, have you?" The dwarf asked him. Cullen frowned even more, looking down at Varric again.

"Who?"

"Spooks," Varric repeated, then realised that the commander probably wouldn't realise who he was talking about, "Siara. Kid with the weird eyes."

"Yes, I am well aware of who Siara is." Cullen went back to eyeing up his recruits, muttering about them being unable to use their shields. Varric crossed his arms.

"So? Do you know where she is? You didn't let her leave, did you?"

"I sent her on a job."

"A job?" Varric repeated, "Where?"

"Lord Kildarn."

"You realise those two have a history?"

"If it's the… situation… with the laxatives, then yes, I know they have a history." Varric laughed, a surprisingly harsh sound for him.

"The laxatives aren't even the start." He said, Cullen looking down at the dwarf again, a confused frown on his face.

"What did she fail to mention?"

"Siara and her brother were paid to kill the guy's son." Cullen almost exploded with rage.

"And she didn't think that was a useful bit of information to pass on to me?" He demanded, turning on the dwarf, "Do you have any clue how much trouble that could cause? Does _she_ have any idea how much trouble that could cause?" He was almost turning red in his anger, Varric taking half a step back, hands held out to try and calm the commander.

"Now, Curly, calm down," He said, "Spooks knows what she's doing," He said in a soothing voice, before adding in a mutter, "Most of the time…" Cullen still didn't look impressed, so Varric quickly continued, "If anything happens, Spooks will find a way to persuade them that you lot weren't involved. She's tricky like that." Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling another headache coming on.

"Maker's breath…" He muttered, "Can't anything go right with that girl?"

"I'm sure she's wondering the same thing, Curly."


	6. Fire

The four members involved in the so-called War Council looked around at each other, thinking over the report Jacquelyn had just given.

"I believe Mother Giselle is right," Josephine spoke up, "Going to Orlais and demonstrating that we are not to be feared would be wise." Jacquelyn frowned slightly.

"Yes, but they still want me dead," She said, "Are we sure it is wise to go and speak to the chantry there now? All things considered, it could lead to more trouble."

"Right now, more trouble is the last thing we need." Cullen muttered, everyone around the table looking at him. The small frown on Jacquelyn's face was what got him most. Small, curious, but also worried.

"I would have thought that trouble would always be something we aim to avoid," She said, "Why does now warrant your saying so?" Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I was just informed by Varric that Siara and Lord Kildarn have had more… serious dealings in the past than we realised."

"Oh?" Leliana asked, a polite expression on her face, "Is there something about our guest that I missed?"

"Apparently she and her brother were hired to kill Kildarn's son." Josephine looked frazzled by this news, Leliana not seeming overly surprised, Jaquelyn frowning, and Cassandra scowling.

"How could this have been missed?" The Seeker demanded, "Does she realise the repercussions this could have on the Inquisition?"

"I don't know," Cullen sounded unimpressed, and looked it, his hands once more resting on the pummel of his sword, "Despite Varric's assurances that she does, I'm not so certain. I'd hope she did, but who knows what goes on inside her head?"

"I will go the long way to Orlais," Jacquelyn sighed, "We need to get ahead of this."

"So you will go to Orlais, after all?" Josephine asked. Jacquelyn nodded.

"It is better that I do this, despite the risks," She said, "Getting ahead of those who fear me is another thing we must do if the Inquisition is to thrive."

"I agree," Leliana said, "But I believe it would be wiser to send someone else to deal with the Blade." Jacquelyn leaned her head to the side quizzically.

"Why?" She asked, genuinely curious, "It would not make the journey that much longer, I am sure."

"That's not why she's suggesting sending someone else." Cullen said, eyeing Cassandra closely. The woman was looking downright pissed, making him believe that she'd also had some experience with Siara.

"That bloody mercenary…" She muttered, her hands forming fists.

"Cassandra, calm yourself," Jacquelyn almost looked amused, "Everything will be fine."

"She is always where she shouldn't be, messing in affairs she has no right to."

"You sound like you know her, Cassandra." Cullen said, watching for the Right Hand's reaction. A rather dower look passed across her face.

"I've heard about her and her brother often enough that I may as well know her. Varric told me plenty about them when I was asking him about the Champion." Cullen frowned.

"The Champion?" He asked, "Of Kirkwall?" Cassandra nodded.

"Her brother was a close friend of his," Cassandra explained, "And Siara would occasionally show up and cause more problems."

"Is it just me, or does she seem to get around a lot?" Josephine asked, seeming rather impressed. Cullen frowned slightly. He didn't even recognise her, though there had been something familiar about her. Something in the eyes. His frown deepened ever so slightly. That elf, Jacen. He'd had those eyes. Why was he only now realising he'd met Siara's brother, even if not for long. For a moment he could see Siara in his mind. She was so… tired. He could see it in her eyes. She simply didn't care anymore. Something told him she'd lost more than just her brother. There was something in those strange eyes of hers that said she didn't care anymore. Yet when he had mentioned the refugees… Siara wasn't seeming to be very easy to understand.

"So Cassandra, Varric, Solas, and I will go to Orlais," Jacquelyn said, "Who will go to ensure that Siara is staying out of trouble?"

"I'll send some of my people out to keep an eye on her," Leliana assured Jacquelyn, "You just try to get things straightened out with the Chantry." Jacquelyn nodded her thanks, then looked to Josephine.

"Do you think you could organise some transport for us?" She asked, Josephine inclining her head slightly.

"Of course," She answered, "I cannot say how comfortable the transportation will be, but I will make sure you can get there."

"Thank you," Jacquelyn smiled around at everyone, "Now, are there any more matters that need to be discussed?"

"Many." Cullen scoffed, the meeting now steered away from Orlais and Siara.

* * *

Darkness had long since fallen, yet Siara still wasn't asleep. She was sitting at her desk, scribbling away. Even mercenaries had to do _some_ paperwork. And it was something to do, especially since sleep was eluding her. By the end of it all she was drawing goofy little cartoons in the corners of the pages, usually of some little guy delivering part of the report with some kind of stupid expression on his face. If she'd been asleep she probably wouldn't have noticed the small, tell-tale sounds of someone moving outside her tent. She froze for a moment, listening, then quietly put the quill down, blowing out her candle and waiting a moment for her eyes to grow adjusted to the dark. She had pretty good night vision. Perhaps it was because of how she used to live when with the Dalish. It didn't particularly matter. At any rate, she could hardly remember her time with them, except that she hated it. She walked quietly over to where her twin blades sat, picking them up, strapping the harness on and putting one of the blades away, holding the other loosely but firmly in her right hand.

She followed the hushed voices, frowning slightly, sticking to the shade as much as she could. Her hair was tied in a low ponytail, shorter strands coming loose and blowing into her eyes slightly, but she paid it no attention. She slipped through the tents, keeping an eye on the torch that had now been lit. Everyone should be asleep by now. Why were these people awake and… sneaking… around… okay, so she was doing the exact same thing. But she was following them, she wasn't being as strange. In her mind anyway. Eventually the people sneaking around stopped walking, looking around as though checking the coast was clear before leaning down and pulling a peg out from the tent they stopped in front of. The Inquisition supply tent. They slipped under the canvas, Siara stepping out and following them. They were busy packing sacks with food, one even grabbing some Lyrium (ex-templar, perhaps?). Siara just stood there, watching them, a slight frown on her face.

"Looking for something in particular?" She asked after a while, eyebrow raised, making the thieves jump, "Or you just shopping around?" The woman looked about as white as a sheet, but the man just glared at Siara.

"This is none of your concern." He snarled. Siara looked at him, her eyes the most obvious thing about her in the darkness, what little light was in the area reflecting off how white they were.

"This is my concern," She said, "You're stealing what belongs to the Inquisition."

"Oh, and you really care what happens to the Inquisition, don't you? You being a part of it and all." The elf sighed, shaking her head.

"I'm not a part of the Inquisition," She told him, "Now put back what you've taken, before this gets ugly."

"No." The man drew a sword, getting into a more offensive stance. Siara quickly reached around and grabbed her second blade, rolling out of the way, spinning her blades as she stood up. She had to be careful not to show that her arm was in pain. Currently the bandages were hidden beneath her sleeve, but if this guy noticed that her arm was injured then she would be in trouble. She maneuvered herself into a position where she could see both the woman and the man, her stance purely defensive.

"You might want to rethink this." She told them both, the woman still not making any kind of move. The man just snarled again.

"I really don't think so." He once again advanced on Siara, sword raised to strike. Siara deflected it, spinning out of the way, once again moving so she could watch both the man and the woman. This time the man didn't let up, immediately coming after her again with a flurry of blows, all of which Siara deflected neatly. But she was being forced back, the woman now out of her sight. Next thing she knew, a sharp object was being pressed between her shoulder blades. She froze, the man also no longer moving, a nasty smirk on his face.

"Thought that the infamous Blade would be better at fighting than this," He sneered, "Seems like the stories are exaggerating." Siara didn't bother replying, her head instead snapping around as someone started screaming, smoke now thick in the air. She slowly looked back at the man.

"You were distracting me…" She muttered, "Shit." She stomped on the woman's foot, the woman lowering her dagger in response before Siara twisted around, bringing her foot to collide with the side of the woman's head. She then ducked around and out of the way before lunging forward and ramming the man with her shoulder, straightening and pointing one of her dual blades at the man's neck as he lay sprawled on the ground.

"Stay." She ordered before running out of the tent, winding her way through the now panicking crowds, others coming out of their tents to see what the panic was all about. Siara kept darting past them, sometimes having to suck her belly in to get through an especially small gap, finding where the fire was a few minutes later. It was a small building that was on fire, the building that was serving as a temporary barracks for the Inquisition soldiers in the area. She turned and looked at the person closest to her, an Inquisition member who had been there a lot longer than she had.

"Who are we missing?" She demanded.

"Captain Frost hasn't been seen since before the fire started," He responded, "Everyone else is accounted for." Siara didn't hesitate, shoving her blades at the man.

"Look after them. Lose them, steal them, you're dead." She said, ripping off a decent chunk of her shirt and marching over to a nearby water barrel, soaking the cloth before tying it around her face. It'd help a little with smoke inhalation. Then she marched into the flames, her eyes stinging as she forced her way through, the flames licking at her skin. She paid it little attention, just kept moving. A door fell in before her, causing her to take half a step back, her foot going through the wooden floor.

"Shit." She growled, pulling her foot out. If it weren't for her boots, she would have at least twisted her ankle. As it was it felt fine. She kept going, doing her best to avoid the flames.

"Frost!" She yelled, then went into a coughing fit before trying again, "Frost!"

"In here!" The voice was weak, barely audible above the roaring flames. But Siara heard it, rushing towards where it was coming from.

"Frost, I need you to keep making noise." Siara ordered, her voice growing hoarse. Frost did as she was ordered.

"Siara, you bitch, you better get me the hell out of this place, or so help me, I will come back and haunt your ass." That actually brought a half smile to Siara's face. It was enough sound, Siara stopping in front of a rather heavy looking door.

"Of course you had to have the room with the most horrible door." She yelled.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time!" Frost snapped. Siara rolled her eyes, then turned and shoulder bashed the door. It took a couple of goes before the door fell in, sending embers flying into the air. Frost was in one of the far corners, clearly having realised what Siara was going to do. The elf took off her make-shift mask and forced it into Frost's hands. The captain bunched it up and held it to cover her nose and mouth, coughing into it, then leaning heavily on Siara as the elf put her arm under her armpits, supporting her. Siara was now coughing like mad, her throat stinging, but she kept going, the smoke making her eyes water, but all the liquid had dried by the time it got to her cheeks. It was so hot in the building. At least exiting was fast enough, the two women stumbling out as the roof caved in. Bystanders hurried forward and took over from Siara, supporting Frost, another couple moving forward to offer assistance to Siara, but the elf shook her head and headed over to where the Inquisition member with her weapons was, looking at him expectantly. The man silently handed them over, Siara nodding her thanks. He motioned to where she had ripped her shirt.

"You might want to get that looked at." He said, Siara looking down to where he pointed, hanging her head as a sigh escaped her.

"This really isn't going well for me, is it?" She asked, her voice still hoarse, before she made her way to where the healers were on standby, other refugees and some of Kildarn's guards making a bucket chain, trying to get the flames under control. One of the healers looked up as Siara approached, quickly making room for her to sit down.

"What's the problem?" She asked, already in professional mode. Siara raised the edge of her ripped shirt, showing the burn more clearly. The woman looked at it quickly, then at Siara, then went to get a cold cloth, pressing it gently to Siara's side, a quick intake of breath all the sign on pain that the elf gave.

"It doesn't look too bad," The healer said, "Shouldn't even scar if you're careful. I'll get a balm for you which you apply a few times a day and you should be alright."

"Thanks." Siara grunted, taking over holding the cold cloth to her side, sighing, rubbing her forehead with the back of her free hand, feeling soot smear across. It really wasn't her day, or even week. She looked over, spotting Frost nearby. The older woman smiled kindly at Siara, nodding her thanks, Siara nodding in return before the Captain turned back to the man looking after her. That was when some of Kildarn's men started marching towards the med tent, another man pointing to Siara.

"That's her," He said, Siara frowning, "That's the one I saw setting the fire." Siara's frown grew as she got to her feet, looking around at all the approaching people.

"What are you on about?" She demanded, "I was nowhere near the building when the fire was set."

"Really? Never heard that one before," One of the guards said, "Take her in. And take her weapons." Siara stood there watching them for a moment before relinquishing her blades, though she looked less than impressed about it, and went with them quietly, the healer that was attending to her looking rather confused as she left.

* * *

The cell wasn't exactly the most comfortable of places, especially since Siara had two wounds that needed some form of dressing, one that needed redressing, one that needed treating and then dressing. At least the straw covering the floor was clean. She wished she could say the same about surrounding cells, the smell nearing unbearable. Especially for someone with a sense of smell as keen as hers. She sighed, looking around the place, looking at the cracks in the stone wall, the chains coming out of it. It gave the impression of having mages kept here, though why they didn't just blast the door off its hinges was a rather good question. One that she could never have answered. She could hear the guards out in the hall, the occasional click as the pike hit against the stone wall, betraying how tired the man on duty was. A sigh escaped Siara and she moved to the far corner, away from the bucket, and leaned against the wall, waiting for someone to come and speak to her. It was bound to happen at some point. She hadn't set the fire, had even been led in the complete opposite direction.

Probably to get her out of the way for long enough to set up. Kildarn was bound to come and talk to her at some point. He was probably behind the fire, considering that it was Siara framed and not someone else, and that it was the Inquisition's temporary barracks that were hit and not some other building. The Inquisition had turned on him, and they had sent Siara. She possibly wasn't the smartest person to send, especially with the history she had with the guy. She sighed, leaning her head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling, arms folded across her chest. This was going to be rather boring. Another sigh escaped her, and she purposefully cracked her neck, the satisfying sound echoing around the walls. It actually felt rather nice, if a little sore. But that hardly kept her entertained. So, she started humming. As badly and as out of tune as she could.

"Would you _shut up_?" The guard outside demanded, hammering on her door. Siara half smiled.

"If you get me a book or something. Maybe a pen and piece of parchment?"

"You're in a cell. You're our prisoner. Hardly a position to be bargaining from." Siara just shrugged.

"Suit yourself." She started humming again, a smirk on her face. She'd been through this before. Being caught was annoying, but sometimes it just couldn't be helped. But she didn't see why she couldn't be annoying back. There was another banging at the door, shouting for her to shut up, and then… silence. Siara stopped humming, frowning slightly, before the bolt on the door was drawn back. Siara stood straight, unfolding her arms, now in a position better for protecting herself from. The door swung open and Kildarn entered, still dressed overly fancy, his hair greased back, shining slightly in the torch light. His cold eyes glinted as he looked at Siara, whose hair was now falling around her face. She really should have retied it after she escaped the flames. Well, currently she felt more like she was in the flames than she had when she had run into that bloody burning building. Kildarn half smiled, nastily, his nose wrinkling in mild disgust as the scorn-filled smile slipped from his face. Siara raised her chin slightly, then half smirked.

"Welcome, Kildarn. Please, come in, come in. Make yourself at home!" She extended her arms in greeting, motioning around at the cell, "I would offer you some tea and cakes or something but, as you can see," She slapped her arms against her legs, looking around before looking back at Kildarn, a sarcastic look on her face, "I'm currently out of… well, everything. Except straw. Want some straw? Hear it's full of fibre."

"Are you capable of taking anything seriously?" Kildarn asked, rather scornfully. Siara's face fell into a neutral expression.

"Yes, actually," She said, "But I never take _you_ seriously. Maybe if you grew a pair I would." Kildarn's face went red and he crossed over to her, looming above her before shoving her back against the wall, forearm pinning her throat. Her breathing wasn't restricted, but it was enough of a warning. Siara's hands went to grasp at his arm as she glared at him, pulling a face.

"You know you've…" She pretended to be disturbed, "You've got something in your teeth and it's really disturbing me," Kildarn pressed harder against her throat and she scowled, knowing that if this got too bad, she could always just lift her knee, "What do you want? To gloat? Really was your downfall, you know. Pride. Smugness."  
"I could say the same of you, _Blade_ ," Kildarn spat, Siara flinching slightly as spittle landed on her face, "You killed my son, and yet you come back here? You make fun of me in front of everyone, and you expect to get away scot free?" He demanded.

"And then you go and sent things on fire in retaliation. I'm immature, am I?" She glared up him, "Don't insult me, Kildarn. I never thought I could get away scot free, as you put it. I do what I do for money. You want who's really to blame?" She leaned forward as much as she could with her neck pinned, "Look in a mirror some time." Kildarn started applying pressure to Siara's neck, and pretty soon she was struggling to breathe, but still she did nothing.

"Why do you not resist, little Blade?" He asked in a taunting tone, "Too weak?" Siara's eyes narrowed, but she still did nothing.

"You wouldn't kill me, Kildarn," She forced out, "Not yet, anyway. You're too sadistic for that. You want to see me hurt the way you did."

"Like… this?" Kildarn asked quietly, releasing Siara before pressing his hand to the exposed burn on her side, Siara sucking in a breath, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her in pain, "Or maybe this?" He grasped her arm where she had been cut, Siara grimacing slightly, then glaring at him, "Surprised you haven't made a move to retaliate." He half grinned, not an overly nice sight. Siara raised her chin slightly, her head ever so slightly leaning to the side.

"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction." She hissed, Kildarn's grin slipping to a scowl as he stepped back and left the room.

"Your time will come, Blade," He called back as the door slammed shut, "You will pay for what you did to my son." Siara leaned her head back against the stone wall, closing her eyes as she let a sigh escape her.

"If I don't get bored of waiting, first." She muttered, too quietly for anyone to hear her, a dark look on her face.


	7. Fates

**TW: Suicide. This chapter might affect some people in a negative way. I in no way mean to offend, and I'm sorry if I do. And if this chapter upsets people, then please, talk to someone for help. There is always someone there for you, and always someone who cares for you, even if you don't always feel like it.**

* * *

Leliana's person watched from the shadows as Kildarn walked off, back straight, mixed emotions showing on his face. Smug, but angry. Furious might be a better description for it. There was also some kind of sadness there. Understandable. Siara had killed his child. Once he was out of sight, the spy slipped down into the dungeons to get a better look at Siara. The elf looked almost comfortable to be there, from what little there was that could be seen of her from the hiding spot the spy had found. The guard shifted slightly, looking around the place, then shrugging before settling into a more comfortable position. It was only a matter of time before he was asleep, his head hanging slightly. Siara obviously knew that he was asleep, moving forward but not doing anything to the guard. The spy crept forward so Siara could see him, her eyes locking with his.

"Leliana?" She asked. The spy nodded.

"Varric told the Commander about the history you and Kildarn have."

"That dwarf never could keep his mouth shut, could he," Siara sighed, "Guess in this case I should be grateful."

"We're doing everything we can to get you out of here," The spy told her, "You just sit tight."

"Like I have any other choice?"

"We know about you, Siara. We know that you could easily escape this cell if you so desired."

"It would just lead to more problems."

"Indeed. We'll have you out of here soon, though. You needn't worry."

"Yay, a knight in shining armour," Her voice dripped with sarcasm, "Hurry the hell up, would you? At the very least have the trial sped up. Or find proof that I'm innocent. I'm only here because of the arson. They have nothing on me for the murder of Kildarn's kid. Or dig some dirt up on Kildarn. There's bound to be some. Pretty sure he has a mistress. Doubt he'd want his wife to find out about that."

"How much do you know about this man?" The spy frowned, "Are you certain he has a mistress?"

"I'm certain he at least _had_ a mistress. Much younger woman. Decent looking, as far as human women go. Eyes are a bit big. Missing a couple of teeth. Think her name is Brianna… something like that, anyway."

"You know a lot about Kildarn."

"I was paid to kill his son, remember? My brother and I researched his whole family. The more you know about a guy, the more you can do to bring him and his family to their knees." She shrugged, turning and heading to the back of her cell, leaning lazily against the stone wall. The spy stood watching her for a second as she crossed her arms, then turned and slunk back into the shadows. There wasn't much left for Siara to do now but to wait.

* * *

The spy returned to Haven not long after, heading straight to Leliana to report in. The spy master listened closely, a calculating look in her eyes. This information about the mistress wasn't exactly new, but it was interesting. Leliana hadn't known about it, that was for certain. Siara was looking to be a bit of a catch. If they could get her out of Kildarn's grasp. An idea started forming as she listened to the spy's report.

"Send for Commander Cullen," She said once he was done, "I might have an idea for getting this mess under control."

"Yes, Messere." The spy bowed and hurried off, Leliana leaning over the table, hands resting either side of the map. She was still thinking of other things on top of the plans to break Siara out. It wasn't long later that Cullen approached, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, as usual.

"You wanted me?" He asked, leaning casually against the pole in the middle of the tent. Leliana nodded.

"Yes," She said, "I believe that, since Siara was sent as a representative of the Inquisition, we should have authority over what happens to her as punishment."

"That could work," Cullen agreed, "But that would depend on Kildarn as much as anything. I highly doubt that he'd want to let the Blade slip through his fingers again. He'll want to kill her himself, which I can understand. She is seeming to be a bit of a thorn in the side." Leliana shook her head, standing straight and looking at the commander. She didn't say what she was thinking, instead weighing her words carefully.

"If you bring up a certain woman, Kildarn might be more willing to hear you out. And you'll want to get Siara back, she's got promise."

"Promise for what? Being a pain in proverbial rear end?" Cullen asked, though it was obvious he was still going to hear Leliana out, "Tell me your plan." He said, moving over to the map, Leliana smirking slightly as she turned and began to tell Cullen her idea.

* * *

It was a few days later that Siara was dragged into the main room of the castle, yanking her arm from the guard's grasp as he pushed her forwards slightly, scowling, glaring around at him.

"Fucking son of a Broodmother." She mumbled, rubbing her still burnt arm, turning to face Kildarn, a now extremely bored expression on her face, pausing when she spotted Cullen standing next to him. Kildarn looked less than pleased, but Cullen just looked professional. Siara sighed, then put a taunting smirk on her face.

"Smile, Kildarn. Or the wind will change and your face would stick, though I shouldn't imagine many would see much of a difference."

"Silence!" Kildarn boomed, his face growing red, "The only reason I don't kill you here and now is because the Commander here tells me the bloody Inquisition has jurisdiction over what happens to you."

"Does it, now?" Siara raised an eyebrow, walking up to stop just in front of the rise before Kildarn's throne, "Isn't that interesting. Know who has jurisdiction over arson?"

"Siara, as your commanding officer I command you to be silent." Cullen ordered, Siara looking around at him in offended surprise. For a moment she debated arguing with him, but she decided against it. Saying something now would just get her in trouble with Kildarn all over again.

"Take her from my sight," Kildarn spat, "And if I ever see her again, she will be killed on sight." Cullen half bowed, hand over his chest.

"Thank you, Lord Kildarn. Your mercy will not be forgotten."

"It better not be," He growled, "That bitch killed my son." Siara didn't look at Cullen as he motioned for her to follow him out of the room, didn't move, just stood there looking at the floor, lost in thought.

"Siara," Cullen called back, stopping and turning to look at her, "Let's go." Siara shook her head, looking up at Kildarn.

"I didn't kill your son." She admitted finally, Kildarn's face going even redder, if that was even possible.

"Yes you did! Of course you did! Don't try to deny it! Filthy harlot!" Siara shook her head, ignoring the insult.

"He was dead when I got there. I looked around to see if someone gotten to him before I had, but there was no one. His wrists were slit. Clean cuts, inner elbow to palm. I'm sorry, Kildarn. I thought that keeping this from you would be kinder. But since I recently lost someone myself, I now believe that the truth is kinder, but I believed that if I gave you someone to hate, you might cope better. Now I can see that all that did was destroy you even more," She half bowed, then stepped back, "I'm sorry for your loss." She then turned and walked calmly from the room, Cullen staring after her for a moment before following, Kildarn screaming insults after her. Once she was gone, however, he collapsed back in his chair, tears streaming down his face.

* * *

They left as soon as Siara had collected her stuff, riding in silence for much of the journey back to Haven. It was the Blade that broke the silence when they were sitting around the camp fire for the night, eating army rations.

"You didn't have to get me out of there, ya know." She told him.

"Believe me, I tried making an argument that leaving you there to face Kildarn on your own was a better choice. Leliana, Josephine, and the Herald were all adamant that getting you out of there was smarter." Siara looked up from picking at the bread in her hands, a mildly amused look on her face.

"The Herald, huh?" She asked, "Lady Jacquelyn Trevelyan herself stuck up for me? If there weren't holes in the sky already, I'd think the world was about to end."

"What have you got against her?" Cullen asked, suddenly on high alert, half glaring at Siara, who just shrugged.

"She's got everything. Always has, always will. Not to mention she's an ass."

"She's never done anything to you, and she just stood up for you!"

"Only because that's in keeping with her appearance of the perfect heroine. She couldn't give two tosses about me, not someone with a past as dodgy as mine. As far as she could care, I could get mugged and thrown in a ditch with a broken neck. The only reason she'd send a hunting party out would be if someone pointed out I hadn't been seen for a while."

"You underestimate the Herald."

"And you're clearly smitten with her," Cullen froze, taken by surprise, "I'm not wrong, am I? You hardly know her, and she has you wrapped around her little finger. Just another dog to lick at her feet." Cullen stood up abrupted, drawing his blade and pointing it at Siara.

"Take that back." Siara popped a bit of bread calmly into her mouth before slowly looking up at him, blinking lazily. She shook her head, stretching.

"No, I won't," She told him, "There's no point. I wouldn't mean it. Jacquelyn is a manipulative bitch. Maybe I'm wrong. But from what experience I've got, the youngest siblings in successful families usually end up being manipulative. Cunning. Doing anything they can to get some recognition. The first example that comes to mind is Carver Hawke. Garrett got all the recognition, and what did Carver get? The Blight." Cullen calmed slightly, realising that he'd overreacted, returning his sword to its sheath, once again sitting down, now feeling slightly awkward. He knew that it was probably just part of his withdrawals, but that didn't change anything.

"You knew Hawke?" He asked. Siara shrugged.

"I met him." She admitted.

"So you were in Kirkwall?" She nodded. Cullen wanted to ask her more, but she was obviously not going to say anything else. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to find something to break the now rather uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry I… uh…" He cleared his throat and Siara shrugged.

"You're not on lyrium anymore and I insulted your girl. Forget about it." Cullen nodded, though he was frowning slightly.

"How do you know I don't take it anymore?"

"Smell." Cullen was confused about this, though he didn't say anything else. She was clearly not wanting to talk more on the matter. Still the silence felt awkward and uncomfortable, the only sound the horses snorting quietly and the fire crackling in the background.

"Did you mean what you said about Kildarn's son?" Siara nodded.

"Left out the part that he wasn't quite dead yet, though. Figured he didn't need to know that part. That's why the people who saw me said I had blood all over me. For some stupid reason I tried to save him. Knew it wouldn't work. Still tried."

"You're not what people think you are, are you?"

"Depends who you ask. Some people think I'm a fucking hero," She scoffed, "Others think I'm an Abomination. I'll let you make your own judgement, though. I couldn't give a flying toss about what people think I am."

"What do you think you are?" She looked up at Cullen, her mildly unsettling eyes meeting his own amber ones. She didn't respond, just watched him for a bit before pulling out her blades and a whet stone and proceeding to sharpen them. It was perfectly clear that the conversation was over.

* * *

Jacen sighed, head in his hands. This was hopeless. Siara was hopeless. How could someone be as hopeless as this girl was? It was beyond him. The commander was looking rather uncomfortable in the silence, and Siara didn't seem to care in the least.

"If I wasn't incorporeal, I'd be kicking your ass right now." Jacen told his sister through clenched teeth, despite knowing perfectly well that she couldn't hear anything that he was saying. Siara was a damned nuisance. He knew that she'd had troubles with templars in the past, but everyone was having trouble with them now. And Cullen wasn't a templar anymore. So why didn't she just get over it? She'd probably get along with him quite well if it weren't for the fact he used to be a templar. He wasn't too bad to look at, either, though Jacen highly doubted that the commander would swing his way, even if Jacen wasn't… well… dead.

The commander got up from his spot near the fire and walked over to check on the horses, Jacen watching him for a moment. Then his eyes flicked back to Siara. She was watching the commander closely, but not for long before she returned to paying attention to what her hands were doing. Jacen half smirked. So, she had noticed how good looking he was, even if she was going to pretend that she hadn't. True, it could just have been that she noticed movement and was watching him, but Jacen knew his twin too well by now. It was at that moment that something clicked in him. And it was in that moment that his fate was sealed.

* * *

 **Again, if this chapter has affected you, I'm really sorry, and please, talk to someone. I apologise for any offence I may have caused.**

 **Also, sorry it was a late update. Was busy and then kept forgetting.**


	8. Planning(?)

Jacquelyn looked up at the darkened sky, her pale hair loose about her shoulders as it was played with by the wind. She closed her eyes as she listened to the bustling nightlife of Orlais, a content smile playing across her face. She liked the city. She always had. Despite how hard the day had been, she didn't regret being here. Sure, the templars had been idiots and walked out on them, but at least the mages were trying to get in touch. That was some progress made. Even if Jacquelyn would prefer to join with the templars if she had to chose only one side. There was just something about mages that she couldn't quite trust, though it was difficult for her to put into words. One or two of them at a time was fine. But whole hordes of them? She'd rather pass.

"What are you doing up so late, Herald?" Varric used the name mockingly, but it still brought a smile to Jacquelyn's face.

"I missed this," She admitted to him, "My grandmother is from Orlais, hence why my name is Orlesian. We used to come here when I was a child. At least, until she passed. Then there was nothing really to bring us back here."

"I can honestly say I did not see that coming." Varric leaned against the rails of the balcony. The rooms they'd rented at the inn were small, but they did the job, and they got a decent view of the surrounding area. Solas was locked in his room, doing whatever it was that Solas did when he was on his own, and Cassandra was busy thinking about what their next move should be. Varric had, evidently, been drinking, a mug of something held in his hands. Jacquelyn thought for a moment.

"So you have known Siara a while?" Varric took another swig of his drink before replying.

"Yup."

"How did you meet?"

"You're curious about the Blade, aren't you?"

"I… Not in any… um…" Jacquelyn shifted uncomfortably, feeling her cheeks burning slightly, "Not because of any… attraction towards her. Just… There have been stories about the Blade for many years, and I just… I wonder how many are true." Varric laughed quietly, enjoying making the Herald squirm a little.

"We met while her sister was on a job. It was simple enough. Jacen and Siara were just looking around the market, and they bumped into me and my brother. Literally," A wry smile crossed Varric's face as he thought back on the day, "Only realised later that one of the buggers had managed to swipe Bartrand's purse. Had to go looking for them after that."

"Did you find out which one did it?" Jacquelyn asked, smiling in bewilderment.

"From the look on Siara's face, I'd say it was her. She looked too smug. Jacen was more apologetic, though he clearly didn't mean it. Found out that they'd spent the money, or most of it anyway. Where do you think Siara got those blades from?"

"So she is no better than a common thief. And a mercenary," Jacquelyn was frowning now, looking back over the city, "Perhaps keeping her with the Inquisition isn't such a good idea." Varric shook his head.

"Siara was a wild card when she was younger, that's true," He admitted, "But she's calmed down a lot. And I'd trust her with my life. Have done on many occasions. She's a good kid."

"I am not so certain," Jacquelyn looked thoughtful for a moment, "But I will trust your judgement. For now. After what happened with Lord Kildarn, however, I do not know if I will continue to trust her for much longer. If she steps out of line again…" She shook her head, "Anyhow, we should talk about something else. What are your thoughts on the templars and the mages? I would appreciate your council on the matter." Varric scoffed, then took another drink.

"I stick out of this kind of decision," He told her, "I'm sick of getting between bloody mages and templars. Been dealing with their shit for far too long."

"I see," Jacquelyn looked back up at the stars, breathing deeply, "Both have their own advantages, their own disadvantages. Why must so much rest on my shoulders?" She asked the last part quietly, part of her hoping Varric would be unable to hear her, but he did.

"You got friends, Princess," He meant the name affectionately, and Jacquelyn was aware of it, silently appreciating the name, "I'm just not the best person to be talking to about mages and templars."

"Unfortunately, everyone else has a very strong opinion on who would be better to ask for help. But thank you, Varric. I appreciate it." She smiled down at the dwarf, who nodded.

"We should probably get some sleep," He told her, "Got a lot of travelling to do tomorrow, especially if you want to deal with this Red Jenny thing before going to this soiree thing."

"You are correct, of course," Jacquelyn looked up at the sky once more, "But I want to stay up for a bit longer. I promise I will retire shortly." Varric nodded, then headed back inside, finishing his drink and leaving it on the table before falling into bed.

* * *

A frown passed across Cullen's face as he and Siara rode in to Haven. Siara hardly looked bothered by the sounds of arguing, dismounting her horse smoothly, leading it to the temporary stables nearby. Cullen stayed mounted for a moment longer before getting down from his dark brown horse, but he didn't lead it to the stables. Siara looked around, watching him, then rolled her eyes. She released her horse's reins and moved back to Cullen.

"Tell ya what," She said, "I'll deal to the horse, you deal to the crowd." He looked around at her in surprise, then nodded, passing her the reins.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me," She told him as he walked off, "You owe me a drink." He glanced back at her in surprise, but she wasn't looking at him. Cullen shook his head, then hastened his steps to the chantry. There was a crowd already formed, mages and mage supporters facing templars and templar supporters, rage thick in the air as they threw insults at each other, blame being tossed back and forth. It wasn't going to dissipate any time soon, not without assistance, that was for certain.

"Your kind kill the most holy!" One of the templars accused, stepping forward from the crowd, poised as though ready to start with fists if needed. A mage stepped forward.

"Lies," He said simply, pointing to the templar, "Your kind let her die." Cullen hurried his steps, realising that getting there to intervene as soon as possible was important. The templar reached for his sword, moving to draw it.

"Shut your mouth, mage!" He growled, Cullen forcing himself between the two before the templar could remove his sword from its scabbard.

"Enough!" His voice was firm, making it an order, glaring at both those involved in the main altercation.

"Knight-Captain –" The templar started to object, Cullen looking from the mage to the templar.

"That is not my title," He said, "We are not templars any longer. We are _all_ part of the Inquisition."

"And what does that mean, exactly?" Chancellor Roderick asked, moving forwards through the crowds, hands behind his back, face unreadable. Cullen's face soured as he looked at the man. As if this wasn't hard enough already.

"Back already, Chancellor?" Cullen didn't bother trying hard to hide how irritated he was with Roderick's presence, only making his response slightly less rude than it could otherwise have been, "Haven't you done enough already?"

"I'm curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its 'Herald' will restore order as you've promised." Roderick turned from Cullen to face the crowds, Cullen looking around at all the faces. Some was clearly agreeing, others strongly disagreeing, yet others terrified at the thought. There was one that stood out to him, however, ethereal purple and white eyes watching with a calculating yet amused glint in them. She had only just gotten there, that was evident by the way she was just stopping when Cullen spotted her. Cullen glared back at Roderick.

"Of course you are," He muttered, his voice holding a long suffering yet pissed off hint to it before he went back to addressing the crowds, "Back to your duties, all of you!" He ordered, the crowds slowly dissipating. Siara stayed where she was, watching them go, then walked over to Roderick and Cullen.

"So, what was that all about?" She asked, rather lazily, as if she couldn't care less. Cullen frowned, not looking impressed at the way things were working.

"Mages and templars blaming each other for the Divine's death." He explained.

"Which is why we require a _proper_ authority to guide them back to order." Roderick stressed, Siara rolling her eyes.

"Because that worked sooooo well last time," She smirked at Roderick, "Why do you think mages and templars are blaming each other for all this shit in the first place? Mages have a power that no one seems to understand properly, all of them at higher risk of demonic possession than most people, and templars subjugated them for how many centuries? Don't get me wrong, some templars are fine. From my own experience, though, most templars are fuckers who deserve a knife to the gut. Mages and templars are long time rivals. That's not going to change with a new power. There might be some improvement after we know what the hell is going on, and frankly the Inquisition is about the only thing seeming interested in that. Everyone else are just running around trying to find their own asses." Roderick turned red, glaring at Siara, and Cullen just looked confused.

"You believe that the rebel Inquisition and the so-called 'Herald of Andraste' are a suitable authority?" Roderick demanded, turning on Siara.

"I'm not good with authority figures, so frankly I'm not a good person to be asking. But since something is actually getting done? Sure. But if you want to pay me… say… six hundred gold to undermine it? Sure. Why not?"

"Siara…" Cullen warned, Siara just shrugging.

"Like he has six hundred gold," She scoffed, then looked back at Roderick, "Also, you might not want to say too many negative things about Trevelyan. The Commander's patience might wear thin." She shrugged again, Cullen shifting awkwardly, concentrating hard on not rubbing the back of his neck. Roderick didn't seem to notice, however, his eyes narrowing even more at Siara.

"And who are you, anyway?" He demanded.

"Siara. The Blade."

"So not only are you a known murderer, you're the sister of an apostate. A maleficar, at that." Cullen frowned at that, watching for Siara's reaction. If he was expecting some kind of explosion from the elf, he was disappointed. She merely shrugged, not even visibly tensing.  
"She made her choices," She explained, "And she died for them in the end."  
"Your history means that your opinions are void, _Blade_ ," Roderick spat the name, Siara just scoffing slightly, a half smile on her face, making her look rather cocky, "No one will listen to your thoughts on the matter."

"Quite the contrary," Siara shrugged, "You see, I'm a bit of a legend around here. I survived the Blight when I was in the middle of it, when I was just a kid. My brother was friends with the Champion of Kirkwall. And my sister? You said it yourself. She was infamous. The Blood, the Bow, and the Blade were one of the most well known mercenary groups in the world. My voice? Has weight. People will listen to me. Sometimes being infamous has its advantages, little man," If it was possible, Roderick went even redder, Siara turning to Cullen, "What do you keep him around for? He's all hot air, waste of space."

"You said it yourself," Cullen replied, "He's toothless. There's no point in turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth."

"Clearly the Commander has more of a brain than your siblings." Roderick muttered, so quietly that he thought no one would hear him. This time Cullen did see Siara tense, a vein in her neck popping slightly, her eyes flashing dangerously, her hands twitching at her side. The Commander wasn't certain that he'd be able to stop her if she did do something, he knew how fast she could be.

"Just be careful," She said, her voice low and dangerous, "If he runs at the mouth too much, we'll find that he really is toothless." Then she turned and marched off, probably before she could actually do anything to the Chancellor. Cullen watched her as she headed back in the direction of the temporary stables, probably to deal with the horses.

"I'd thank the Maker if I were you, Chancellor," He said, "Because she isn't exactly what I'd call stable right now, and you just mentioned her recently deceased brother." He turned and left the Chancellor, now visibly paled, to think on what he had just said.

* * *

Jacquelyn sighed, trying to block out the sound of bickering as they rode into Haven. Sera and Vivienne _really_ didn't like each other. Varric and Cassandra weren't talking (unsurprising), Solas being about the only one present at that moment who wasn't giving the Herald of Andraste a headache. Haven was visible in the distance, but it was still too far away for Jacquelyn's liking. She just wanted to get into a nice, warm bath… The wind was cold, snow starting to settle. As if things couldn't get worse… Cold, dirty, headache… It was getting to the point where Jacquelyn was starting to struggle to deal with it. She pulled her cloak tighter around her, eyes fixed on Haven. It wouldn't be that much longer until she would be back there. A part of her wished she could go back to Orlais. To civilisation. Given half the chance she'd just go home. She actually vaguely missed her siblings, as annoying as they were.

That being said, though, she was pleased that she was getting a chance to prove herself. If none of this had happened, if the mages hadn't rebelled, then by now she would be being trained to be a templar. Like Cullen was, once upon a time. Just the thought of the Commander brought a slight smile to her lips. She wasn't exactly trying to hide the fact that she was interested in him. He was a good-looking guy. And sweet. Definitely sweet. And he was so awkward when he actually realised she was flirting with him, which only added to his charm. She wondered if he realised this. Something told her that the answer was no. There was a part of her that worried that he was already taken and that was why he was acting so awkward, but no one ever mentioned anything about the Commander being in any kind of relationship. Thinking about Cullen, somehow, managed to make the trip seem faster, and soon they were within the walls of Haven. Jacquelyn slid from her horse and let one of the hands care for it, heading for her hut to get out of her armour into something more comfortable, letting her hair out of its braid as she went, letting the ice-cold wind play with it. With the lighting the way it was, it was difficult to tell where the snow ended and her hair began, they were such similar colours. A shiver ran up her spine and she hurried her steps, people glancing in her direction as she passed.

They were looks that she was starting to get used to, she'd been getting them a lot since she fell out of the Fade, since she'd closed that first rift, since she became known as the Herald of Andraste. Since so much began resting on her shoulders. It was a feeling that she both hated and loved. Having so many looking to her for protection and guidance. She opened the door to her hut and quickly slipped inside, closing the door after her. Someone had already lit a fire for her. Whoever it was, Jacquelyn was grateful to them. A content sigh escaped from her and she removed her cloak, throwing it on her bed, then proceeding to remove her armour, setting it neatly on her desk, her thin white shirt suddenly feeling like it was exposing her skin too much to the cold. She shivered again, heading to the chest where she kept her stuff, pulling out a thicker shirt, this one woollen, dark blue in colour. She changed from the thin white shirt and into the dark blue one, also changing her leggings into thicker ones, pulling a jacket on and wrapping herself up in the cloak once more. She knew that she was expected to go brief everyone on how everything went at Orlais, but she really didn't want to. For now she just wanted to rest, enjoy the warmth. But there was a knock at the door, another sigh escaping Jacquelyn before she could stop it, and she went and answered. Standing there was Cassandra.

"Are you ready to brief the others?" She asked. Jacquelyn nodding, hiding the fact that she was actually rather upset about the fact that she wasn't about to get her bath. She opened the door slightly more for Cassandra to come in while she pulled socks and boots on again.

"What are your thoughts?" Jacquelyn asked, "About Fiona and the mages or going after the templars?"

"You know where I stand on the matter," Cassandra responded, closing the door behind her and moving to stand closer to the fire, snow melting in her hair, "I do not trust the mages, and there is something odd with the templars. I believe that they require more assistance than the mages do."

"I would be inclined to agree," Jacquelyn agreed, "But we also have to think about who would be more help with closing the Breach, "Which from the few conversations I have had with Solas about it, he seems to believe that the mages would be of more help. Yet I cannot bring myself to trust them. There could be maleficar in their midst. And abominations."

"I see you are thinking this through," Cassandra frowned slightly, "I'm sorry that this has to be on your shoulders." Jacquelyn shook her head, standing up and heading for the door.

"I can handle this," She said, "I am fairly certain that the mages would be an unwise choice. They might be more powerful, but I also believe that they would be more dangerous. Taking into consideration that we are not the only ones here, but we are also harbouring some refugees, it would be safer to not have flight risks in our midst." Cassandra nodded, following Jacquelyn out and once again closing the door behind her.


	9. A great big load of Bull

The briefing had gone smoothly, the next course of action decided upon. Jacquelyn, Vivienne, Varric, and Solas would go speak to the mages. That didn't necessarily mean that they would accept their help, but Jacquelyn was willing to speak with them.

The Herald let her hair fall loose around her shoulders, still damp from her bath. She headed for where the recruits were training, sword and shield with her. It would most likely boost morale if the Herald was seen training with the recruits. At the very least, it would boost morale of the troops. Cullen saw her approach, returning the smile she gave him.

"So," She said as she walked over to him, "Where would you like me?"

"Excuse me?"

"Where would you like me for training." Jacquelyn asked, repressing a small laugh. Cullen looked back at the troops, thinking, his arms folded.

"Come with me." He ordered, arms falling to his side as he walked through the training recruits, leading Jacquelyn to a rather tough looking recruit who was busy running through drills. She stopped when she saw who was approaching, however.

"Maker, you're…" She stared at Jacquelyn, brown eyes wide. Jacquelyn bowed her head, smiling kindly.

"Herald, this is Gretta. She shows promise. Could you spar with her today, teach her some of what you know?"

"Of course," Jacquelyn briefly turned her smile on Cullen before turning back to Gretta, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Gretta."

"No, the pleasure is all mine, Herald of Andraste."

"Please, call me Jacquelyn," She motioned to a more open space, "Shall we?" Gretta nodded, Jacquelyn leading the way, Cullen watching for a moment before returning to where he could watch all the troops. He spotted Siara talking to Varric as they walked around the walls, Siara watching the troops. Cullen made his way over to them, Siara raising an eyebrow, whatever conversation had been going on coming to a halt.

"What?" She asked, her voice maybe slightly less irritable than it usually was.

"I have another job for you."

"What? So soon after all that shit went down with Kildarn?"

"I'm hoping you've learnt your lesson." Varric and Siara shared a look, both seeming mildly amused.

"Okay, assuming what you say is true –" Siara started.

"Which it won't be." Varric interrupted, Siara rolling her eyes, Cullen frowning.

"What's the job and why would I help?" Cullen held out a sheet of paper, Siara silently taking it, quickly reading it. When she was done, she looked up at Cullen, entirely unconvinced.

"Bees?"

"Yes."

"And only somewhere south? By Andraste's sacred knickers, you know how big an area that is to search? Maker's breath, this is ridiculous."

"You won't be the only one searching," Cullen assured her, "We're also getting in touch with bounty hunters."

"No."

"No?"

"They'll just get in the in way," Siara folded up the paper and slid it into a pocket, "I'll find him on my own."

"You won't be completely on your own," Cullen told her, Siara looking unimpressed, "Cassandra and Sera are going with you." The Blade shrugged.

"Who?"

"Seeker Pentaghast," Cullen explained, pointing at Cassandra, who was busy hitting a training dummy, "And Sera, a friend of Red Jenny."

"I'm guessing that I don't have a say in this." Siara grumbled.

"No."

"Great." She sighed, walking over to Cassandra, Varric and Cullen staying where they were and watching.

"This isn't going to end well." Varric muttered.

"I think you might be right," The commander agreed, "But Cassandra insisted on not letting Siara out without supervision."

"She's going to be driven mad by Spooks."

"That or they'll kill each other," Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "Maybe you could talk to her? If she causes too many problems then there's nothing we can do for her."

"She knows, Curly. Believe me. I just don't know if she cares." Cullen nodded, moving back to watch over the troops.

"All the same," He said as he walked off, "I'd appreciate it if you tried." Varric sighed, muttering to himself. That kid was nearly impossible to get through to, yet people seemed to expect that he could perform miracles. Cassandra was barely containing her hatred for Siara, and Varric knew that Siara could tell. The elf turned and started walking back to him, very mildly irritated. She shrugged as she approached him.

"This isn't going to be fun." She told him.

"The seeker takes some getting used to, but she'll warm up to you."

"I doubt anyone here who hates me will warm up to me. If they hate me, they hate me. And the seeker hates me," She shook her head, "I told her that we'd head off tomorrow. She doesn't seem too impressed, maybe because she dislikes taking orders from me. Or maybe it's just my existence she disagrees with." Siara grinned, though it wasn't a nice grin. Varric half scoffed.

"Just don't do anything that'll get you in too much trouble."

"Oh please, you know me, Varric."

"Yes, unfortunately I do." Siara shrugged again, walking off to find Sera, Varric spotting Cassandra still glaring at the elf as she walked off.

* * *

Varric waved Siara, Cassandra, and Sera off. Jacquelyn stood next to him, arms folded.

"I pity Cassandra," She said, "Siara and Sera are enough of handfuls individually. I do not want to what it would be like putting them together."

"Spooks usually isn't like this," Varric told her, "She's just going through some shit at the moment."

"I know," Jacquelyn assured him, "I suspect she is also a better person than what she pretends to be."

"At least someone realises that," The dwarf grumbled, heading off to his usual spot in Haven, "At this stage I worry even Spooks is forgetting it." Jacquelyn didn't follow him, watching him for a moment before returning to watching where the small group lead by the Blade were going.

* * *

"We'll have to go the long way," Cassandra was saying, "The Herald has requested that we stop by the Storm Coast and meet with a mercenary group known as the Chargers."

"Oh, terrific," Siara muttered, "Am I going to be paid extra?"

"You _really_ only care about the money?" Sera asked, frowning.

"Not the only thing. Just… one of the only things. I also care about food. Food is good."

"There are more important things, ya know."

"Give me three examples."

"I'll give ya one big reason. People." Siara scoffed.

"What have people ever done for me?" She asked, "People pay me to do shit, frequently it's killing other people. So I'm still doing things for people, it's just… for money."

"Well, aren't you a nice person."

"The nicest."

"Enough! You're arguing like children!" Cassandra snapped. Siara half smirked, slightly ruefully, her thoughts slipping back to what felt like a lifetime ago, yet not that long at all.

 _"You're such a kid."_

"You started it."

"Did not!"

"Did too."

"Did – … You win this round, Siara."

Siara shook her head, glancing around at Cassandra.

"You have no idea." She muttered before spurring her horse on faster. Cassandra frowned in confusion, then followed suit, Sera just plain confused.

"What just happened?" She muttered, not having been told anything about what had happened to Siara at the conclave.

* * *

As usual, the rain was consistent and miserable. The horses didn't seem too happy about it, but Siara couldn't care less. Sera was grumbling quietly to herself, and Cassandra seemed to be losing patience quite rapidly. The only thing Siara was irritated about was that she was having to take longer to find the damnable bee keeper.  
They were met by a female dwarf when they approached the Inquisition camp.

"Seeker Pentaghast," The dwarf greeted, "Welcome to the Storm Coast."

"What's the news?" Cassandra asked, Siara sighing.

"Stuff finding out about the news," She grumbled, "Just point us in the direction of the Chargers."

"I…" The dwarf frowned.

"I'm Siara, hired muscle for the Inquisition," Siara explained, "What's your name?"

"I'm Scout Harding. It's nice to meet you. I think…"

"Likewise. Now where are the Chargers? Fill Cassandra in on shit while Sera and I go talk to them." Cassandra glared at Siara, but Harding seemed happy enough to go with Siara's plan.

"They're just down the hill from here, next to the water."

"Many thanks," Siara turned to Sera, getting down from her horse, "Shall we?" Sera dismounted and followed Siara.

"Are you always this businessy?" She asked. Siara grinned.

"Hell no, I'm just looking for a fight and hoping the Chargers haven't finished off the Vints yet."

"So you care about money and fighting?" Siara gave Sera an amused look, eyebrows raised slightly.

"Sure, let's go with that." They walked in silence from there, the sound of battle reaching their ears. They shared a look, Siara reaching around and drawing her twin blades, Sera grabbing her bow and selecting her first arrow, knocking it smoothly. A small smile slipped onto Siara's face, her eyes trained on the Vints as they rounded the corner. She changed pace, now running forward. She slid under a blow as one of the Vints raised their arm to attack one of the Chargers, sliding her gold tinged blade neatly into a gap in the armour under the armpit, slipping it into where the lung would be. The Tevinter warrior cried out in pain before he started drowning on his own blood. The Charger blinked in surprise, but shook it off quick enough as he turned to the next invader. Siara went the other way, eyes locking with a Tevinter's.

She half smiled, a blood thirsty smirk that would have made his blood run cold. He faltered for a moment, then steeled himself against the fear and shot forward, a war cry escaping his lips. Siara didn't even take a step forward, an arrow coming out of nowhere and neatly getting him in the eye socket, coming out the back of his skull. He fell to the ground, dead. Siara looked around in surprise, blinking twice, then nodding to Sera, though she was distracted for a moment. For a moment she had thought that it could have been Jacen. She shook her head, trying to push the thoughts to the back of her mind. She looked around, leaning back just in time as an axe almost introduced itself to her skull. She glared at the Tevinter who had tried to chop her head open, spinning around, her hair (tied in its usual braid) hitting him in the face, distracting him for a moment, giving her enough time to stick the short end of her darkened dual edged blade up and under his helmet, impaling him through the chin. The second blade found its way into his side, through a gap in the armour.

She drew her blades out at the same time, the man struggling for a moment, then making a mad swing at her, almost getting her in the side of the head. Siara ducked the blow and shoulder bashed him. The armour was hard, and the collision left her with a bit of a sore shoulder, though her own armour absorbed most of the blow. And being shoulder bashed with a spiked plate of armour wouldn't have been the most comfortable thing in the world. The man fell, gasping for breath. Siara left him. He'd die of his wounds soon enough. She looked for her next opponent, but was left disappointed. The last of the Vints had been felled.

"Chargers, stand down!" It was a Qunari who yelled the order. Siara wasn't too surprised by this, however. She'd heard a bit about the Chargers, they were mercenaries, of course she had. But Cassandra hadn't mentioned it to her, and she half wondered if the seeker had been aiming to take Siara off guard, have the upper hand about knowing something that Siara hadn't. If so, it hadn't worked. She watched as the Qunari walked over to someone who she assumed was a kind of second in command.

"Krem!" He called, "How'd we do?"

"Five or six wounded, chief, no dead."

"That's what I like to hear. Let the throat cutters finish up then break out the casks." Siara looked around at her final victim in time to see someone neatly slitting his throat. She was almost disappointed, then confused by that thought. She wasn't too happy with it. She shook her head, deciding it was a good time to approach the chief. He turned around as she approached. She was slightly confused about why he was wearing a harness and not a breastplate, but it was up to him what armour he wore. She wasn't exactly wearing the strongest armour.

"So, you're with the Inquisition, huh?" He greeted, "Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming." Siara half smirked.

"I like drinks, drinks are good," She looked around at Sera, who was walking over to them, "See, now you know another thing I care about. Getting drunk." The Qunari grinned, a short laugh coming out of him.

"Good to hear you have your priorities right!" He joked, Siara half shrugging.

"That's something I can get behind." Sera agreed.

"Anyway," Siara said, looking back at the Qunari, silently wondering to herself how he lost his eye, "Yeah, I'm with the Inquisition. Kinda. I'm a merc, like you," They walked over to a rock and the Qunari sat down, "Siara. The Blade."

"I've heard about you. And your brother. Hadn't heard you were with the Inquisition, though," They both looked around as the second in command or something came back, "This is Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant." He introduced.

"Good to meet you," Cremisius greeted, Siara nodding in returned, then the lieutenant turned to the Qunari, "Throat cutters are done, chief."

"Already? Have them check again, I don't want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offence, Krem." He chuckled.

"None taken," Krem shrugged, half smirking, "Least a bastard knows who is mother was," He turned and started walking off, "Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?" Siara scoffed in amusement, looking from Krem back to the Qunari.

"You haven't introduced yourself." She said.

"The Iron Bull," The Qunari introduced, "Though something tells me you already knew that." Siara shrugged.

"You got me. Jacen and I heard about you and your Chargers quite a bit. Vaguely surprised the Inquisition didn't hunt you lot out sooner. You're a very skilled bunch."

"Thanks," Bull said, "Might be 'cause we're expensive that they didn't seek us out."

"But worth it. They're paying me a bit. You lot would be worth a lot more than a solo merc."

"Solo? What about your brother?"

"Gone. Just me now."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I'd've liked to meet him. He sounded like an impressive guy." Siara shrugged.

"He was. Best archer I've known. But y'know how these things go. It was gonna happen eventually," She frowned slightly, suddenly becoming more business-like, "So. Will the Inquisition be getting the Chargers, or you as well?"

"They'll be getting me," Bull replied, standing up and walking a few steps, "You'll be needing a front-line bodyguard. I'm your man. Whatever it is. Demons. Dragons. The bigger the better."

"Hoard of rampaging nugs?" Siara suggested, rather jokingly.

"Eh, I'd just step on 'em," Bull joked back, "There's one other thing," He sobered rather quickly, "Might be useful, might piss you off."

"Them," Siara said, "I'm just representing the Inquisition, though Maker only knows why. The Herald doesn't exactly like me. But anyway, go on." She motioned for him to continue.

"Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?" He asked. Siara nodded.

"Qunari organisation. Kinda like elite spies. Or fighters. Pretty near the top. The big guys."

"Yeah, that's them. Or, well… us," Siara raised her eyebrows, vaguely impressed, "The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the breach, magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I've been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what's happening. But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I share those reports with your people."

"I was wondering why you were so willing to join the Inquisition," Siara said, rather conversationally, "I guess now I know the answer," She frowned slightly, thinking, Bull not saying anything while she did, "I'd take you on quite willingly. You're a good guy, as far as I know. I haven't heard anything bad about you. Unfortunately, it's not up to me if you join or not."

"Who is it up to?" He asked.

"I'd be guessing her." Siara pointed with her thumb to the person coming up behind her, looking around only afterwards. Cassandra was frowning slightly, but Siara was beginning to think that was just how her face was stuck after the wind had changed.

"What is this?" Cassandra asked, completely business-like.

"The Iron Bull and his Chargers wanna sign on," Siara filled in, "He's Ben-Hassrath. Would report back to his bosses, but would share with the Inquisition the info he got. His band is bloody good, and I fully support them being hired by the Inquisition. I'm sure he'd also be discrete in what info he shared."

"You're Ben-Hassrath?" Cassandra asked, her frown deepening, guard rising.

"Yup."

"Why would we hire you?"

"Because the Blade is right," Bull said, "I'd share what information I got with your spy master. And I'd be careful with what information I was sending back."

"What's to stop you from turning on us?"

"Whatever happened at that conclave thing is bad. Someone needs to get that breach closed. So whatever I am, I'm on your side."

"He'd be no more against you than Varric is." Siara said, folding her arms, staring at Cassandra. The seeker glared at her.

"No one asked your opinion." She almost snarled.

"I don't care," Siara retorted, "I'm a stubborn ass, and I'm ninety-eight percent certain that Varric would describe me as an adult with the personality of an insufferable teenager. And I'm a hundred percent certain that I'd describe the Inquisition as a bunch of idiots if they didn't hire the Chargers. The Inquisition needs friends, and the Chargers would be bloody good friends to have, as well as the fact that any info we get from the Ben-Hassrath would be useful to have. I'm damn certain that Leliana would put the info to good use." Cassandra continued to glare at Siara for a moment longer before a sigh escaped her and she turned to look up at Bull.

"Fine. You can join for now. But we'll be watching you."

"I'd expect nothing less." Bull replied, perfectly calmly, him and Siara watching as Cassandra turned and walked away. Sera had long since lost interest in the conversation and had gone off to make friends with some of the Chargers, happily helping herself to a drink.

"She's a bit of a hard ass, isn't she?" Bull asked.

"Apparently she's like that for everyone," Siara replied, perfectly conversationally, "And supposedly she warms up to you. I'm yet to see evidence of that."

"Good to know," Bull rumbled, then turned to find his lieutenant, "Krem!" He called, "Tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!"

"What about the casks, chief?" Krem almost whined, "We just opened 'em up, with axes." He sounded vaguely annoyed about the last part.

"Find some way to seal 'em," Bull replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "You're Tevinter, right?" He asked as he walked towards Krem, "Try blood magic," Siara scoffed, "We'll meet ya back at Haven."

"One last thing," Siara called, Bull stopping and turning to look at her, "You haven't heard anything about a rather nasty bee keeper somewhere south of Haven, have you?"

"Yeah, I heard something about him," Bull replied, "Why?"

"Wouldn't happen to know where he is, would ya?"

"Yeah… again… why?"

"I got sent the long way to find him. Care to either join or give directions?" Bull looked slightly confused, but looked back around at Krem.

"You lead the men to Haven. I'll take this lot to find a bee keeper."

"Aye, chief." Krem responded, still thinking about how to best seal the casks. Siara smiled. She liked Bull. He was amusing.

* * *

Walking into Redcliffe put Jacquelyn on edge. There were too many mages around, and she very much didn't like it. Who knew how many abominations would be among them? The thought was enough to make her blood run cold. She took in a breath and steeled herself against the fear, heading toward the tavern. People would stop and turn to watch her, but she was used to this because of Haven. It probably didn't help matters much that she had a cut running from the end of her eyebrow to the middle of her cheek, still bleeding. One of the demons she and her selected entourage had fended off had managed to get a lucky blow in, and the gash was quite large, not just long, but also wide. How had that happened? How had time just gone… weird?

Both Solas and Vivienne had theories, but nothing concrete, and Varric… Well, Varric was just seeming to roll with it. Made some dismissive, if slightly concerned, comment about how it was weird shit. Jacquelyn had just been mildly freaked out by it, and she was reasonably certain Varric could tell. Okay, she was reasonably certain all of her party members could tell, and that her scowl was what was giving it away. She slammed the door to the tavern open, flinching slightly. She hadn't realised she'd put that much force behind it. She certainly hadn't intended to. Everyone turned to face them, Jacquelyn now feeling a little sheepish, casting an apologetic look at Fiona, who had stepped forward, a mildly disapproving frown on her face.

"Welcome, agents of the Inquisition." She greeted.

"A pleasure," Jacquelyn returned, bowing her head slightly, "Sorry about the door."

"Don't worry about it," Fiona assured her, then nodded to Vivienne, "First enchanter Vivienne."

"My dear Fiona, it's been so long since we last spoke!" Vivienne wasn't even trying to hide her dislike for Fiona, speaking with an almost sickeningly sweet tone, "You look dreadful! Are you sleeping well?" Fiona ignored her, Jacquelyn frowning ever so slightly at Vivienne.

"What has brought you to Redcliff?" Fiona asked, getting to the point. Now Jacquelyn frowned at Fiona.  
"You invited us," She said, "Back in Val Royeaux. Or have you forgotten?"

"You must be mistaken. I haven't been in Val Royeaux since before the conclave."

"That is… a little strange. Because the person I spoke to sounded and looked exactly like you."

"Exactly like me?" Fiona asked, leaning her head to the side slightly, frowning in confusion, "I suppose there could be magic at work, "But why would anyone… Whoever or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The free mages have already pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium." Jacquelyn raised an eyebrow, not saying anything for a moment.

"Fiona, darling, your dementia is showing." Vivienne told her, sounding completely unimpressed.

"Andraste's ass," Varric interjected, "I'm trying to think of a single worse thing you could have done, and I've got nothing."

"I understand that you are afraid, but you deserve better than slavery to Tevinter." Solas added.

"As one indentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you."

"Very well," Jacquelyn said, nodding her head in understanding, "Who is in charge now?" It was at that moment that the door shut with a rattle, drawing the attention of everyone in the tavern, Jacquelyn turning to face the two men who arrived, one convincingly older than the other.

"Welcome, my friends!" The elder of the two greeted, "I apologise for not greeting you earlier."

"Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius." Fiona introduced, Alexius bowing his head ever so slightly.

"The southern mages are under my command," He explained, his voice full of authority, "And you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade?"

"That I am." Jacquelyn confirmed.

"One of them, anyway." Varric grumbled.

"Interesting…" Jacquelyn wasn't too happy with the way he said that. It didn't do anything to make her feel at ease.

"You are quite a long way from Tevinter, Alexius."

"Indeed I am, though I have heard you are no Fereldan, either. It seems we are both strangers here." He motioned for her to join him at a table, Jacquelyn following. Fiona looked rather depressed that the fates of she and her fellow mages were in the hands of the Tevinter.

"Felix, would you send for a scribe, please?" Alexius turned to the younger man who had accompanied him into the building, "Pardon my manners, my son Felix, friends." Felix bowed to Jacquelyn, Jacquelyn inclining her head in return. She didn't get the same feeling from Felix as she did from his father, but unfortunately, she wasn't dealing with him, and he was already walking off.

"I am not surprised you're here," Alexius said, drawing the conversation back to the matter at hand, "Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt. There is no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavour. Ambitious, indeed."

"We are fighting a giant hole in the sky, Alexius. We can hardly afford to think small, and failure is hardly an option." Jacquelyn put on her sweetest smile.

"Indeed," Alexius agreed with a small smile of his own, "Though there will have to be –" At that moment Felix returned, and Jacquelyn noticed immediately that there was something wrong, rising to meet the young man. Alexius looked more than a little worried, also rising to his feet. Felix made a motion that he was fine… then promptly collapsed, Jacquelyn hurriedly reaching out to catch him. She managed not to frown as he forced a note into her hand.

"Felix…" Alexius was definitely scared for his son.

"I'm so sorry," Felix apologised, now leaning against the table, "Please forgive my clumsiness, my lady."

"Are you alright?" Alexius asked, Jacquelyn stepping back to give the father and son a little more room.

"I'm fine, Father." Felix tried to assure him, but Jacquelyn knew enough about protective fathers to recognise the look on Alexius' face. He wasn't convinced.

"Come, I'll get your powders." He said, motioning now for Felix to follow him. The younger man had no choice but to follow.

"Please excuse me, friends! We will have to continue this another time," Alexius didn't even look back, striding out of the room with great purpose, "Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle." Fiona followed, still with a depressed look on her face. Felix followed behind everyone else, still walking as though he wasn't feeling quite right.

"I don't mean to trouble everyone." He said as a means of apology, Jacquelyn shaking her head.

"Think nothing of it," She assured him, "Just concentrate on getting better." Felix threw her a small smile, then continued after his father and Fiona.

"I shall send word to the Inquisition," Alexius assured her, only now turning to face Jacquelyn, "We shall conclude this business at a later date." He turned away, and only once they were gone did Jacquelyn pull out the note and read it over, a small frown on her face.

" _Come to the Chantry, you are in danger._ " She looked around at her companions, all of them seeming as intrigued and worried as she did.

* * *

 **Alright, you lot have caught up with me. Now I have to balance uni work with writing... oh dear... I know how bad my time management is... this could be interesting...**


	10. Bees and trouble

They arrived at the bee keeper's hut in record time. How Bull had known where to find the guy was a mystery to Siara, but she just rolled with it.

Or she did as far as Jacen could tell. Travelling without a horse was… interesting. And not exactly easy. But, surprisingly, he didn't get tired. And if he found himself lagging behind, he always seemed to be able to pinpoint Siara and catch up. After about the third time, however, he'd simply mounted Siara's horse behind her. No one, except maybe the horse, noticed. And since he was dead and didn't weigh anything the horse didn't overly care. For which Jacen was rather grateful.

Jacen dismounted a fraction before Siara, slipping down the other side to Siara. He gave the horse a quick pat on the nose, his sister stroking its neck, then walked over to the hut. He could hear his sister talking to her companions.

"Someone else can do the talking," She said, "From what I know, I'm probably the last person the Inquisition wants speaking for them."

"You're right." Cassandra agreed. Jacen looked around. Clearly the seeker still didn't like his sister, and felt no shame in letting her know. It felt… wrong. He couldn't explain it. But Siara simply rolled her eyes. At least she didn't seem to care. Outwardly. Jacen could feel that she was slightly insulted by how much hate Cassandra felt towards her.

"Sera could," Siara got that evil glint in her eyes, "It was her idea, after all."  
"I'm sorry?" Cassandra seemed alarmed by the idea, and Siara smiled sweetly.

"It's alright," She said, "You're forgiven." Now Cassandra scowled.

"Are you ever serious?"

"Only on the twenty-first of every month," Siara shrugged, "Anyway, why are you standing around arguing with me? Go talk to Bee Guy." Cassandra tensed, wanting to argue more, but turned and marched over to the door. Jacen hurriedly stepped out of the way. People had walked through him before, and it wasn't overly pleasant. More for psychological reasons than physical reasons. He glanced back around at Siara, who was now happily conversing with Bull.

He seemed like quite a nice guy. For a Qunari. Jacen still struggled with the concept of trusting a Qunari after everything that happened at Kirkwall. There were things from that time that Jacen wanted to forget about, but also dreaded that he would. There were simply more important things concentrate on at that moment, much as he hated to think about it. He wasn't saying Kirkwall was unimportant, just he couldn't change what happened there, and couldn't change what happened to him. Didn't stop it hurting.

Jacen left Cassandra when the door opened, heading back to where Sera, Siara, and Bull were. Siara's horse was scratching near its eye, Siara watching it, a tired look on her face. She hadn't been sleeping much, and it was starting to concern Jacen. That she didn't have anyone around that she trusted enough to watch her back while she had a proper sleep. And that she was having so many nightmares that even if she did fall asleep properly, she would wake up not long after. Sera and Bull, on the other hand, were as energetic as usual.

"So, Bull. What are your women like?" Sera was asking. Siara's horse stopped scratching and gently headbutted her, asking for attention. She rested her head against its neck, reaching under the neck with one hand, her other hand stroking its nose. Her eyes were already half closed. She always had been at ease with horses. It brought a smile to Jacen's lips. She really needed to get around to naming it.

"The Tamassrans? Terrifying… and inspiring. They teach you everything you need to know. Give your life purpose."

"No, I mean, are they like you? Big and… phwoar."

"Oh, shit yeah." Sera laughed, a slightly dreamy look on her face.

"Wow…"

"Just trust me when I say you don't want to get on their bad side," Siara said, still resting her head against her horse's neck, "They know how to hurt you."

"You know from experience?" Bull asked, mildly surprised.

"Hell yeah, she does," Jacen mumbled, despite knowing perfectly well no one could hear him, "Siara's fought more than her fair share of Qunari." Siara simply nodded, but didn't actually say anything. Sera and Bull shared looks, then Sera folded her arms.

"Alright, Bladey, spill."

"Hm?"

"You've been weird for ages, and don't think we haven't noticed that you ain't been sleeping." A quiet sigh escaped Siara and she stopped leaning against her horse. She shrugged.

"I don't sleep often." She explained, Jacen glaring at her. He couldn't do much to help her if he couldn't be seen, and it annoyed him. She needed to tell someone so she could get help. And Sera and Bull seemed like good people for it. Neither of them seemed convinced by what she said, though.

"Something to do with your brother?" Bull asked. Siara looked at him, shrugged, then nodded.

"Yeah. I suppose."

"For the Maker's sake, Siara! Just tell them!" Jacen exploded, "Tell them exactly what happened!"

"There's more to it though, isn't there?" Bull was really on to it, his Ben-Hassrath training showing.

"Okay, you can stop reading me now." Siara growled, Jacen folding his arms and tapping his foot.

"You better tell them Siara." Siara looked around to where Cassandra was talking to the rather creepy looking bee keeper, a small sigh escaping her.

"I was in the Fade," She eventually replied, "I can't fully remember it, but there are flashes. I think Jacen was there. Not sure. Anyway, we were at the conclave. And he died. He died where I survived. I watched him die, and because of everything that happened, I don't even have a body to bury," She looked back to Sera and Bull, "Happy? Good. Now let's never talk about it again." Jacen sighed. At least she'd talked about some of it, even if she didn't mention how much it bothered her that this was the second time this had happened. Not having a body to bury. Though it surprised him that she could even remember flashes of what happened. She'd given no impression of it earlier. He guessed it was just a defence mechanism. But the conversation was over, Cassandra returning.

"He has agreed to teach us," She said, "We will receive weapon plans, and he's told us where to locate an apiary to supply us. We'll send more members of the Inquisition to this location to assist with setting everything up, as well as to learn."

"Good. So we can get out of here?" Siara was already mounting her horse, "Excellent." She didn't bother waiting for the others, simply turned and started to ride off. Jacen sighed, shaking his head. She was hopeless. And he had his work cut out for him. Especially since he was a spirit. It was his job, wasn't it? His duty to care for his sister? Even if she wasn't even aware of his presence.

By now the others were all mounting, and Jacen had to quickly jump up behind Bull, who was closest to him. There was no way that he was going to be left behind again.

* * *

The Herald was waiting at the gates to meet them when they returned, a grim expression on her face.  
"War chamber. Now," She ordered, "You too, Siara." Siara frowned, slipping from her horse, who she had recently and affectionately named Blaze. Alright, so she wasn't great at naming things. The only other 'pet' she'd had was a halla that she'd named Snowy.

"Can I look after Blaze first?"

"No. Now." Jacquelyn ordered, already turning and leaving. Siara sighed, handing the reins to Bull, who took them and started guiding Blaze and the horse he'd been lent over to the stable, Sera taking hers and Cassandra's horses, Cassandra and Siara already following Jacquelyn.

"You mind filling me in on what's going on?" Siara asked, "If you're getting me involved this early on then it has to be bad."

"It was Leliana's idea, not mine," Jacquelyn said, "We will explain when fewer people can overhear us. But to put it in words that even you will be able to comprehend, things are going shit."

"Wow, Trevelyan used a bad language word. I'm impressed," Siara said, her voice completely flat, "Next is to try and get her to say fuck." She half smirked, then went back to having a completely emotionless expression on her face. Jacquelyn took in a deep breath to try and calm herself. She was most certainly not in the mood for Siara's games. Cassandra stayed out of the conversation. She couldn't do anything to help the situation. The only ones who could were Siara and Jacquelyn, and neither of them seemed very willing to. Both of them were stubborn. And frankly, Cassandra was more willing to side with Jacquelyn. Siara seemed to know this, and she hardly seemed to care. The seeker was starting to think that maybe it was just what Siara did. Didn't care. She couldn't have been more wrong.

* * *

"We have decided to go to the templars for help," Jacquelyn explained now that they were safely in the war chambers, door securely closed, "Not just with the Breach, but also with the mages." Siara frowned, standing between Jacquelyn and Josephine, the ambassador seeming a bit uncertain of Siara's presence.

"Two questions," She said, everyone turning to face her, "One, why am I here? And two… Why, by the Maker's hairy balls, do you think it's a good idea to enlist templars to help with a mage problem? They're still fighting." Cullen, at the very least, struggled to hide his shock at Siara's mildly colourful language.

"Because templars can silence magic," Jacquelyn said, using a tone that made it seem like she was talking to a child, "And Leliana requested you be here, I have already told you that."

"Yes you did," Siara agreed, "What I mean is why did she ask me to be here?"

"She can fill you in while Cassandra, Varric, and the Iron Bull prepare to depart for Therinfal Redoubt." Cassandra nodded, her and Jacquelyn marching from the room, Cullen following them, moving to discuss something with them. Siara looked to Leliana and Josephine, Josephine still seeming uncertain about something.

"Right, now they're gone, explain."

"Gereon Alexius is a Tevinter magister," Leliana explained, "And he has taken the Redcliffe mages."

"Stupid move on the mages' part."

"Indeed," Leliana agreed, "And around the rifts at Redcliffe there have been… disruptions in time."

"Disruptions?"

"I don't know how to better explain it, but this isn't something we can afford to wait for templar help with."  
"So what do you expect me to do about it?"

"Leliana tells me that you would be able to step in and meet with Alexius," Josephine explained, "Even though he has requested to meet with the Herald."

"I don't know who you think I am, but there is no way that I can pass a five foot ten human noble."

"We don't expect you to," Leliana assured her, "We just want you to pose as her representative."

"Her representative?"

"We need to get ahead of this, Siara, and I believe you are the best person for the job." Siara looked at Leliana, a serious expression on her face.

"I'll take Solas," She said, "And that Grey Warden that I saw walking around the place."

"He is Warden Blackwall. The Herald found him last time she was in the Hinterlands."

"That's nice for her," Siara looked thoughtful for a moment, "I'll find them and tell them what we're about to do."

"Getting our forces in won't be easy," Cullen said, returning from whatever he was talking to Jacquelyn and Cassandra about, Siara looking around at him, "And for the record, I don't support this idea."

"Figures." Siara said, raising an eyebrow, Cullen half glaring at her.

"We'll get some of our forces in through a secret passage into the castle," Leliana said, "It's too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through."

"It's too risky," Cullen objected, "Those agents would be discovered well before they reach the magister."

"I'm guessing that's where I come in," Siara sighed, "Acting as a distraction. If Alexius will even see me."

"He will," Leliana assured her, "Our reply will make sure of it."

"While they're focussed on Siara, we break the magister's defences. It could work, but it's a huge risk." The door opened again, Siara blinking a couple of times as a Tevinter man almost strutted in.

"Fortunately, you'll have help." He said.

"Who the hell are you?" Siara asked, looking around at the advisors, "And what does he mean by 'you'll have help'?"

"This man says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander." One of the recruits said, the Tevinter and Siara sharing a look, the man looking slightly confused that it was Siara here and not the Herald, most likely, Siara just mildly untrusting, before the Tevinter looked up and met Cullen's untrusting glare.

"Your spies will never get past Alexius' magic without my help," He explained, "So if you're going after him, I'm coming along."

"It's not a bad idea," Siara agreed, "Though I hate to say it, it would increase our chances. As it is our chances are low, lower than they would be even if it was Trevelyan going instead of me." Cullen sighed, turning and looking to Siara. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he looked very mildly concerned.

"The plan puts you in the most danger," He said, "We can't in good conscience order you to do this."

"Oh please," Siara scoffed, "Just pay me and I'll be happy," She turned to the Tevinter, "And since we'll be working side by side, I suppose we should get to know each other a little. Names, at the very least."

"Of course," He semi bowed his head, "Dorian of house Pavus, most recently, of Minrathous."

"Such a fancy title," Siara half smiled, "Makes me feel almost bad about being plain old Siara, otherwise known as the Blade. Merc for hire," She shrugged, suddenly becoming serious, "Now we better get a move on. Longer we wait, worse the situation gets."

"Of course." Dorian agreed, turning and heading out the room, Siara pausing a moment to address the advisors before following.

"Make sure you get your people ready as soon as possible."

"Of course," Leliana assured her, "And good luck."

"Thanks," Siara half scoffed, "We're gonna need it."


	11. Whispers and Champions

Siara looked up at the castle, a blank look on her face. It certainly looked different, but that didn't really affect her at all. Dorian came up beside her, his staff on his back.

"Impressive, isn't it?" He asked. Siara shook her head.

"I've seen more impressive. For example, how it was before all this stuff started happening," She shrugged, "Anyway, what do you think our chances are?"

"Slim to none," Solas piped up, resting his hands on his staff, "But better than they could otherwise be. I believe we're making the right choice."

"Templars would just be making the situation worse," Siara agreed, a sigh escaping her, "Dorian, you best go get in position. We'll hang back a bit then follow." Dorian nodded, already beginning to walk off. He paused, then turned to look back at them.

"Try not to do anything stupid," He said, "Alexius will already be unimpressed that you're not the Herald."

"No more unimpressed than you are." Siara half smiled, Dorian scoffing slightly before continuing on his way. She was right, of course. He wasn't impressed that the Herald was leaving the problems with the mages until after she'd dealt with the templars. Siara was just as unimpressed, though for a couple more reasons, and some of them were highly biased.

"Do you have a plan for once we get in there?" Blackwall asked, Siara half looking around at him, then sighing.

"Jacen was always more of a planner than me, and before him it was Mara. I plan, then make it up as I go along."

"What about at the moment?" Solas asked.

"I'm open to suggestions, but at this stage I'm going to be a diplomat." Blackwall and Solas shared looks. Neither of them knew Siara overly well, but they both got the idea that her playing diplomat was almost certainly not going to end well.

* * *

Lord Abernache met them just outside the gates, naturally wanting some small talk before entering. Jacquelyn did her best to humour him while still managing to persuade him to hurry up, and before long they were heading towards the walls.

"I don't suppose you'll divulge what finally got their attention?" Abernache asked as they approached the walls, Jacquelyn frowning slightly, having drifted off for a bit, "Rumour will, if you won't."

"I am afraid I do not fully understand." She said, looking around at him as he lengthened his stride a couple of steps to stop in front of her.

"The lord seeker won't meet us until he greets the Inquisition in person," He explained, "Quite a surprise after the spat in Val Royeaux."

"That… is news to me," Jacquelyn replied, "The Inquisition only asks that the lord seeker helps us to close the Breach, nothing more."

"Then it's all been arranged by your ambassador. Let the diplomats work their magic if you trust them." He started walking off again, Jacquelyn frowning. Her companions were already within the walls, Jacquelyn having trailed behind to have the conversations with Abernache. For a moment she stayed where she was, thinking. Then a drop of rain landed on her cheek, causing her to flinch slightly before looking up at the sky. A sigh escaped her as more drops of moisture started landing around her. This was going to be a fun time. There was a part of her that hated politics, though her family had brought her up differently. She both loved and hated politics, simply wishing that more people had two braincells to rub together. She was afraid that this was a situation where the people she was dealing with would be missing at least half of one.

"Between you and I, the chantry never took advantage of their templars," Abernache was saying, pulling Jacquelyn from her thoughts and prompting her to hurry her footsteps to catch up, "Wiser heads should steer them." Jacquelyn didn't say anything, though that was one point that a part of her agreed with. She wasn't anti-mage, simply believing that mages needed certain… restrictions, and that the chantry wasn't always firm enough with them. Though these were views that she would keep to herself, especially because of the times that they found themselves in.

"Here we are! Therinfal Redoubt."

"The lord seeker abandoned the White Spire to come here." Cassandra said, Jacquelyn walking to stand beside her and the Iron Bull.

"You have to wonder why." Jacquelyn muttered, looking around.

"It appears they've sent someone to greet you," Abernache was saying, Jacquelyn nodding, eyes trained on the dark-skinned man standing at the gate, "Present well." With that, Abernache started walking to meet them. Or do whatever it was that Abernache did. Jacquelyn didn't overly care. She didn't hear the last thing that he said, simply waited a moment before following him.

"This is going to be fun," She muttered, "There is something definitely wrong here. Make sure to stay on your guard."

"You don't need to tell me twice." Bull muttered, though because of how low his voice was it almost came out as a growl. He could clearly feel it, too, and judging by the concerned looks on Cassandra's and Varric's faces, they could tell something was not quite right as well. It did nothing to put Jacquelyn's fears at ease, though she wasn't quite certain what she was afraid of. There was only one thing for it, though, so she steeled her nerves as she approached the templar at the gates, raising her chin slightly, and prepared herself for anything that was about to come her way.

* * *

Jacen had elected to stay back at Haven, not entirely sure why, but just feeling like something wasn't going to end well if he went with his sister. There was some kind of whispering, some kind of warning, something telling him that he couldn't have helped her if he did go. He wouldn't be able to do his job if he'd gone. He couldn't explain it. Every time he tried to concentrate on it, it would slip away. Like if you tried to grab smoke with your hands. He sat with his head in his hands, frowning. He could still feel her. Feel her emptiness. Though he was starting to struggle to fully understand it. He knew that she'd lost something, someone, and it was hurting her. There was a part of him that understood that she'd lost him. But he didn't understand it. He couldn't comprehend it. He kept having to stop himself and concentrate on it, remind himself of what it felt like to lose someone. Mara. His thoughts kept slipping back to her. She'd taught him how to use a bow. Before her magic had manifested. She'd been one of the best archers in the clan, despite her young age. She was a good teacher, too. Always smiling, always laughing. She was always so kind.

 _"Jacen!" He looked up, clasping his knee. It hurt. Lots. Tears rimmed his eyes, Siara just watching, eyes fixed on the blood that was trailing down his leg, staining his leggings. She wasn't particularly good around blood. It made her feel sick. But Mara… Mara was right there at his side._

 _"Here, let me have a look." She was frowning in concern, her green eyes shining with worry. Jacen moved his hands away, leaning back on them while Mara checked the wound. A pale glow surrounded her hands as she placed them over the wound, Siara only now creeping closer, kneeling down next to Jacen and resting her head on his shoulder, her arms around his. He leaned his head on hers, looking away. He'd grown up around magic, he should be used to it, yet the thought of it being used on him still made him nervous for some reason. A soothing warmth surrounding his sore knee, and before long the pain dulled until it was non-existent._

 _"There," Mara said, her voice soft and melodic as always, "All better." He opened his eyes and looked up at her, at the kind smile that was almost always on her face. He smiled back up at her, Siara still resting her head on his shoulder. They didn't say anything, Mara just smiling a little more before pulling them both into a hug. He buried his face in her hair. He always liked the way she smelled.  
_  
But what did she smell like? His eyes opened and he frowned. He'd always been able to remember what Mara smelled like. Always. Whenever he wanted to, he could bring that scent to mind. So why couldn't he remember now?  
Why was he forgetting?

* * *

 **Sorry it's late and shorter than usual. I managed to get sick. And busy. So fun times. But hey! A short, late update is better than no update. Right...? Hope you enjoyed!**


	12. Bloody Magisters

"You are not the Herald," The man who came to greet them said, frowning, "Magister Alexius has agreed only to speak to the Herald."

"The Herald is otherwise occupied," Siara responded, perfectly calmly, as though she were completely in control of the situation, "I have been sent to represent her until a later date, when she shall take over."

"And they are…?" He nodded to Solas and Blackwall, who stood diagonally behind her, one each side.

"Here to make sure I do my job properly." A frown passed over the man's face.

"Name?"

"The Blade."

"Please wait a moment. I shall speak to Magister Alexius."

"Tell him the Inquisition won't take no for an answer," Siara called after him, "If Alexius won't see me and my associates, then the Herald won't see him later." He paused, half turning to face her, clearly trying to work out how serious she was being. Then he nodded, continuing on his way. Siara sighed, running a hand through her hair. A slight frown passed over her face. Her fingers felt a lot colder than they should. It wasn't painfully cold, but they certainly felt cool on her scalp. Which was strange. They pretty much never felt cold to the rest of her body, unless she was in a really cold environment.

"You handled that surprisingly well." Solas told her, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Thanks. I guess."

"You think he'll listen?" Blackwall asked, getting a shrug in response.

"We'll find out. Probably. He wants to get to the Herald. If I'm the only way that's going to happen, then he'll talk to me. Hopefully."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"You've never heard of me, have you Blackwall?"

"The Blade? Not as much as I've heard about the Blood and the Bow." Siara looked at the floor for a moment, then glanced around at him.

"I know what I'm doing well enough that I haven't died yet," She muttered, "So trust me." Blackwall was frowning, but he nodded. They didn't have to wait much longer before the man returned. He didn't even bother to walk all the way down to greet them, stopping on the stairs and motioning for them to follow.

"Magister Alexius shall see you now."

"How kind of him." Siara smiled, making her way up the steps. Solas and Blackwall looked at the guards that stepped over to follow them, but Siara didn't react. She'd been in this kind of situation before. And besides, she was a weapon. She was aware of where everyone was. Or she was reasonably confident that she was. And if she wasn't, then she could adjust when those hidden showed themselves. So she walked as though there was nothing to be concerned about. Alexius sat on the throne at the far end of the room, looking perfectly regal. Beside him was a younger man who Siara assumed was Felix. He frowned slightly when he was her and not the Herald. She just went back to watching Alexius.

"My Lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived."

"So," Alexius said, not sounding particularly friendly at all, "You're the famous Blade. What brings you here?" He asked, forcing a smile onto his face. Siara bowed slightly when she got within suitable range.

"I'm here to represent the Herald of Andraste until such a time that she can represent herself and the Inquisition."

"You do understand that I said specifically that I would only speak with the Herald?"

"Unfortunately, the Inquisition doesn't want to risk anything happening to the only person who can close the Breach. That is why I have been sent. When I am confident that nothing shall happen to the Herald, and once she has finished with her current business, she shall talk with her yourself." Her eyes met his, and she could see clearly what his intent had been. They'd been right to send Siara and not Jacquelyn. The rage in Alexius' eyes said it all. He'd been wanting the Herald so he could kill her. Most likely. Which meant that now it was Siara at risk. Who knew how this man would react now that he didn't have the opportunity to kill the Herald. And why did he want to kill Jacquelyn? Surely he knew that there were problems that needed her to fix them. Unless he didn't want them fixed. Alexius' smile got more forced.

"Very well," He said, "I can understand your concern. Welcome, Blade. Shall we get down to business?" It was at that moment that an elf mage came along.

"Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?" She demanded. Grand Enchanter Fiona, Siara supposed.  
"Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives." Siara had to bite her tongue to prevent her from making some kind of smartass comment.

"I don't see any harm in letting her be here for the discussion," She said, "No decisions will be made until the Herald is here, at any rate." Alexius nodded, seeming slightly displeased but unwilling to push his luck.

"Very well," He agreed, "Shall we begin our talks?" He leaned back slightly in his seat, "The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?"

"I don't know," Siara said, perfectly honestly, "And I'm actually far more interested about how you managed to get time magic to work."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I think you do. No one is going to be studying something as dangerous as time magic aside from the Imperium. The Circles would have been thinking it far too dangerous so would never have allowed it. The Imperium, however, has no such constraints on magic."

"Siara, are you sure you know what you're doing?" Solas hissed, frowning. Siara half glanced around at him, then looked back to Alexius, who was smiling again. That same, pressed smile from before.

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about."

"She knows everything, Father." Felix said, turning to face Alexius.

"Felix, what have you done?"

"Your son's concerned about you," Siara told him, "He's afraid you might be involved in something terrible."  
"So speaks a nobody," Alexius snapped, "Did you really think you could turn my son against me?"

"If anyone's turning him against you, it's you. I've never even met him."

"You come in here, speaking on behalf of the Inquisition, and you think that you're in control? You, who doesn't even have a proper name?" He demanded, rising from his throne and walking to the first step, looking down on them.

"Siara… if you have a plan, now might be a good time to use it." Solas muttered, looking around at the guards. Siara ignored him.

"Two things. One, I have a proper name," Siara smiled, almost sickeningly sweetly, "Namasiara Ar tu na'din," Solas gave her a strange look, mildly confused, a small frown on his face, though he didn't say anything, "And two... who killed the Divine, Alexius? What do you know about it?"

"It was the Elder One's moment, and you and your precious Herald are unworthy to stand in his presence."  
"Father, listen to yourself, do you know what you sound like?"

"He sounds exactly like the kind of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be." Dorian said, walking from the shadows. Alexius' face darkened, Siara not taking her eyes off him.

"Dorian…" He stopped next to Siara, giving her a quick nod, then looked back at Alexius, "I gave you a chance to be a part of this, you turned me down."

"I wonder why." Siara muttered.

"The Elder One has power you would not believe, he will raise the Imperium from its own ashes."

"That's who you serve?" Siara frowned, "That's who killed the Divine? Is he a mage? And how the hell will he raise the Imperium from its own ashes?"

"Soon, he will become a god. He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas."

"You can't involve my people in this!" Fiona objected, Siara glancing a look at her. Dorian stepped forward.

"Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen! Why would you support this?" Siara looked around as one of Alexius' guards fell to his knees before being dragged away, then fixed her eyes once more on Alexius. The plan was moving along nicely. Now if only it could hurry up a little. Something just wasn't feeling quite right.

"Stop it, Father," Felix implored, "Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and let's go home." Alexius turned to face his son.

"No," He said, "It's the only way, Felix. He can save you."

"Save me?"

"There is a way," Alexius turned and looked at the fire behind throne he had just vacated, "The Elder One promised, if I undo the mistake at the Temple…" He looked down at the small group of Inquisition members in front of him.

"I'm going to die, Father," Felix told him, in no uncertain terms, "You need to accept that."

"But you ruined my plans," Alexius continued, "There is no way for me to allow you to leave this place. Seize them, Venatori." He looked around just as the remaining of his Venatori collapsed the ground, replaced with Leliana's people. Siara glanced around at them, then to Alexius.

"Stand down, Alexius. We don't want to have to hurt you."

"You… You should never have resisted…" He pulled a medallion from his pocket, a strange green glow around it. Siara frowned, getting into a position better for fighting. Dorian was already ahead of her, however, magic forming in his hands.

"No!" The powers collided, Siara automatically twisting away slightly in an attempt not to be caught up in the vortex it created. It didn't work, however, and the next thing she knew, she was being pulled into it, with no way of stopping.

* * *

 **Again, a short chapter. But it means next chapter I can work with Jacquelyn. Plus I'm just being lazy.**

 **On a side note, next week will potentially be the last update for a bit. Not sure yet. I'm getting surgery done on my left arm, and typing might be interesting. Or slow, at the very least. So we'll see how I feel. I'll try to get things prepared before then so updates will still be on time.**

 **Hope you lot enjoyed this (short) chapter.**


	13. Trouble at Therinfal

Jacquelyn eyed up the flags, thinking. Who did she hold above all others? The Maker, obviously, and his bride. So, Andraste. And she was, after all, the Herald of Andraste. Therefore, Andraste was above all others. After that was when things started getting interesting. She held the people in high regard. Civilians were, in many ways, more powerful than those in charge. If a civilian decided that those in charge were unfit to rule, and others shared that sentiment, then a rebellion would not be that inconceivable. That said… The templars were meant to serve. They served a noble purpose. They were meant to protect the civilians, it was a noble cause.

She sighed, thinking. There was no one right answer, only one right answer for her.  
So she put Andraste, the bride of the Maker, above all else, followed by the people. If she could have, she would have tied the templars and the people. Neither of them was more important than the other, but she could only choose one. She turned to face Barris, the templar that greeted them, her face as unreadable as she could make it.

"Traditionally, the participant of the rite now explains their choices to those assembled." He said. Jacquelyn thought for a moment.

" _There was no word for heaven or for earth, for sea or sky. All that existed was silence. Then the Voice of the Maker rang out, the first Word, and His Word became all that might be: Dream and idea, hope and fear, endless possibilities. And from it made his firstborn. And he said to them: 'In My image I forge you, to you I give dominion over all that exists. By your will may all things be done',_ " She quoted, "Threnodies 5. The Maker created all, and Andraste is his bride. Therefore, my first choice is Andraste. The people were created in His image, so they come next. If I had the choice, then I would have put the templars and the people as equals, as the templars are an honourable order. But I could not, therefore, this is my choice." Abernache sneered slightly.

"If it wasn't to impress the Lord Seeker, why bother at all?" He asked, Jacquelyn turning her cold gaze on him, not even trying to hide her mild dislike for him at that moment. This had been a difficult task for her to complete.

"I suppose those are _your_ intentions." Barris said, straight backed, hands behind his back, looking like a very well trained templar. Jacquelyn inclined her head to him, very slightly, acknowledging his statement. She liked Barris. He was seemed fairly straight forward, intelligent, and he believed there was something strange going on with the lord seeker. She trusted his judgement. After all, Cassandra had been confused by his actions at Val Royeaux.

"My intentions are to deal with people who matter!" Abernache snarled, not even trying to contain his anger as he did his best to approach Barris in a threatening way, "You helmed louts are wasting the Inquisition's time, and my time. Unacceptable!" Barris sighed.

"The Lord Seeker awaits you both," He said, Jacquelyn walking over to Abernache, "Follow me."

"If I find something is wasting my time, Abernache, I will let those wasting it know. I do not need you fighting my battles for me. Do you understand?" She muttered, rather darkly. Abernache looked at her, confusions shining in his eyes. Jacquelyn left him standing there, not bothering to wait around for a response.

"Are you threatening me, Herald?" He asked as he moved to catch up with her.

"Believe me, if I am threatening you, you shall know about it." Jacquelyn hurried her steps to follow Barris, pointedly ignoring Abernache into the building, walking over to the table situated in the middle. She might have been impressed by the size, but she was used to large areas, and it wasn't unlike a mess hall. Not to mention, it wasn't exactly clean, though she was inclined to ignore the straw littering the floor. Barris and Abernache immediately set to arguing, Jacquelyn rolling her eyes and shaking her head, blocking them out as best she could. It worked for a bit, but not as long as she would have liked.

"It's necessary, you know. You don't win a battle by committing." Abernache was saying, Barris not seeming too happy.

"Without faith, you've no knights. You've – Knight Captain!" The Knight captain stepped up to the desk, hands behind his back. His face was hidden by the helmet he wore. Jacquelyn regarded him closely, hiding her mild confusion behind an unreadable mask.

"You were expecting the Lord Seeker?" The knight captain was asking, "He sent me to die for you." Barris looked around at Jacquelyn, and she calmly looked back around at him as Abernache stepped around the table to address the newcomer.

"Knight Captain, Lord Esmeral Abernache. Honour," He bowed, not as low as he could have, but it was still a reasonably deep bow, "It is not unlike the second dispersal of the reclaimed Dales. No doubt rank puts you above such things, a pity more people don't understand that." The knight captain laughed.

"This is the grand alliance the Inquisition offers?" He asked, rather snidely, watching Jacquelyn with a small, rather cruel smirk. Jacquelyn did her best to hide a frown. There was something very much not right. She wasn't entirely sure how she was meant to be replying. The knight captain simply seemed… off.

"You, be ready." He continued. Abernache turned to face Jacquelyn.

"Yes, be ready to be left behind, Knight Captain Denim."

"The Lord Seeker had a plan, but the Herald ruined it by arriving with a purpose, it sowed too much decent." Barris marched around the table to the knight captain, anger and confusion in his eyes.

"Knight Captain, I must know what's going on."

"You are all supposed to be changed!" Jacquelyn's bad feeling grew, the frown finally slipping onto her face, "Now we must purge the questioning knights!" Barris looked around as the sound of yelling grew, Jacquelyn also looking around. Some of the knights in the hall with them looked… off. She couldn't quite explain how, they had a strange red, almost crystalline substance growing out of cracks in their skin, something that she could find no reasonable explanation for.

"For once, I agree with the –" Abernache was cut off as an arrow went through his head. Jacquelyn took half a step back, shrugging her shield off her back and grabbing her sword, falling into a better position for fighting, automatically on the defence. She didn't know what was going on, but she sure as hell was not going to be caught off guard.

"The Elder One is coming!" The Knight Captain was saying, "No one is going to leave Therinfal who is not stained red!"

"Maker's Breath!" Barris exclaimed, stepping away from the knight-captain. Jacquelyn eyed up the templars that were nearing her, having already dealt to some of the clearly questioning templars, and one or two of those who had accompanied her to Therinfal. There was only one way out of this, though it went against everything that Jacquelyn felt and stood for.

* * *

 **Okay, sorry it's short. Was planning on making it longer, but I haven't been particularly enthusiastic about much recently. Figured a short thing was better than nothing. Will try and get more out as I feel able and when uni isn't too much.**


	14. Realm of Envy

What ensued was chaos. Stained red was certainly accurate, crimson spatters of blood flying all over the room as people fell to the ground, either dead or severely wounded. If not for the physical differences between the templars they were meant to be fighting and the friendly templars, Jacquelyn wouldn't have known who she was meant to be killing. Thankfully, it was over reasonably quickly, the Herald sheathing her sword and returning her shield to its place on her back, her previously white armour stained with flecks of red. She turned to face Barris, who was checking the Knight-Captain.

"Is he still alive?" She asked.

"Barely," He replied, "If you use a healing elixir, he may survive. If he even deserves it." Jacquelyn nodded.  
"We will heal him," She said, using a tone that left no room for argument, "We shall judge the knight-captain after we find his master." Barris nodded, quickly searching the knight-captain.

"The Knight-Captain's keys," He held them out to Jacquelyn, who took them before heading over to the door that lead to the rest of the area, "I would question the Lord Seeker about this Elder One." Jacquelyn opened the door, immediately getting attacked by another of the… strange… templars.

"They are monsters!" Cassandra exclaimed, equally disgusted and shocked.

"You think?" Varric asked, a slight edge to his voice as he shot a bolt neatly into the templar's head, causing him to fall down, dead. Jacquelyn, who had been closest to the templar, looked around at Varric and nodded her thanks before continuing on. They didn't have long, however, another couple of the turned templars approaching them and attacking. These ones Jacquelyn was ready for, however, and the battle that followed was swift and relatively painless. They continued on, all of them on high alert.

"They're like no templars I've ever seen." Varric muttered, rather thoughtfully.

"Does that matter right now?" Bull asked, his eyes scanning the area for any surprises that might lurk.

"If it's weird and I haven't seen it, that's worrying." Jacquelyn frowned slightly, thinking.

"It is like that stuff back at the Breach," She muttered, "The red lyrium."

"Maker's breath, Princess… don't even joke about that."

"I would not joke about this, Varric. Though perhaps this is not the best time to be worrying about this. Right now we need to be getting to the Lord Seeker. Then, hopefully, we shall know for certain what is going on."

* * *

They were about to step out into a courtyard when Jacquelyn first heard it. A strange voice, sounding sort of like the Lord Seeker's, but distorted in a way that she couldn't quite describe. It struck her as strange that no one else could hear him. His voice was clear as day, even if it did sound off, and yet Cassandra, at the very least, hadn't heard him, and none of the other members in Jacquelyn's party seemed to hear anything, either. She shook her head. It hardly mattered. They had other things to concentrate on.

Then the voice continued, starting to say things that put Jacquelyn slightly on edge, confusing her no end. Things like 'I will know you'. It continued the closer they got to where the Lord Seeker was, and it became more and more obvious that he was aware that he knew that she could hear him. Jacquelyn didn't like it one bit, but she didn't voice any of these concerns. She was the Herald of Andraste. She had to put her faith in the Maker that everything would work out as it was meant to.

But nothing could prepare her for what happened when she actually approached the Lord Seeker. He stood on his own, facing a pair of large doors, seemingly unaware of their presence. Jacquelyn glanced to her companions before slowly approaching him, staying on guard, not sure what to expect from him. When she got close enough, he spun around and grabbed her around her neck, pulling her with him as he stepped backwards, seemingly towards what looked like a rift. Try as she might, Jacquelyn couldn't resist, getting pulled with the Lord Seeker to who knew where.

"At last." He hissed as they fell back into it, adrenaline pumping through Jacquelyn's veins, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled against him unsuccessfully.

* * *

When she opened her eyes again, she was somewhere that she didn't recognise, green mist obscuring the area. She could make out pillars, grass, burning corpses, stuck in the position that they died in. And in the distance she could make out two vague shapes, though she suspected she could recognise them. She pushed her fear down inside her, slowly walking forward, hand moving to rest on the hilt of her sword, more so that she knew it was there than she was about to draw it. She stopped in front of Josephine and Cullen, blinking a couple of times, trying to hide her surprise, her attention snapping to a third party as Leliana walked around the edge of the brick wall, then took her place between Cullen and Josephine.

"Is this shape useful?" Leliana asked, her voice distorted in the same way the Lord Seeker's had been. Jacquelyn's hand tightened around the hilt of her sword, a frown making its way to her face.

"Will it let me know you?" 'Leliana' started walking over to Cullen, "Everything tells me about you," She pulled a knife out from seemingly nowhere, moving to take her place behind Cullen, who didn't move a muscle, his head hanging as though he were a lifeless husk, "Even this. Watch."

"Stop these disgusting lies, Demon." Jacquelyn spat, glaring at 'Leliana', struggling to get her heart rate down to a reasonable spead. The demon didn't say anything, just smiled slightly. Jacquelyn's mouth went dry, her heart racing as 'Leliana' drew the knife along Cullen's throat, then as his body slumped to the ground. Her hand flew to her mouth before she could catch herself, her body starting to shake. When she realised what she was doing, she forced herself to stop, forced herself to glare at the demon instead, tell herself that there was no way this was real. The real Cullen was alive, the real Cullen was fine.

That didn't change that fact that she'd just watched him die. Didn't change what she was now coming to realise. That her feelings for him weren't just some game, like her attention towards men usually were. There was something about him, something that she couldn't ignore. And she'd just watched him die, the person who she was beginning to have real feelings for. 'Leliana' stepped backwards, her voice sounding like a distorted version of Jacquelyn's when she spoke.

"Stop these disgusting lies, Demon!" Next it was Josephine who stepped forward, playing with a knife as Leliana vanished, "Being you will be so much more interesting than being the Lord Seeker," She said, Jacquelyn having to turn slightly to keep an eye on her, but she vanished. Jacquelyn frowned, looking around. She hadn't taken her eyes off the Josephine look alike, how could it just have vanished?

"Do you know what the Inquisition could become?" The voice was right in Jacquelyn's ear, and she spun around, her sword automatically being drawn, trying to swipe it through the demon. But again, it was gone. Jacquelyn's heart was beating furiously by now. She'd never been good with this sort of thing, facing an unknown foe. She always had to be able to see what she was fighting. This was worse than the first time she'd faced down a demon. Far worse.

"You'll see. When I'm done, the Elder One will kill you, and ascend, then I will be you." Jacquelyn hesitantly returned her sword to its sheath, keeping her eyes scanning the area.

"Who, or what, is this Elder One?" She demanded, keeping her voice as steady as she could. Thinking about what was happening right now was too much. She had to concentrate on getting information where she could, had to concentrate on the task at hand. Then, maybe, she could get through this.

She got laughter before the demon replied.

"He is… between things. Mortal once, but no longer," There was movement out the corner of Jacquelyn's eyes, then 'Josephine' stepped in front of her, "Glory is coming. And the Elder One wants you to serve him like everyone else; by dying in the right way."

"Keep talking, then." Jacquelyn quipped, glaring at the demon as it backed up then walked away. Jacquelyn thought it was over, relief flooding her veins, when another voice she recognised started speaking.

"I am not your toy," It said, Jacquelyn closing her eyes for a moment before turning to face Cullen, "I am Envy, and I _will_ know you!" Her eyes flicked down to the knife in Cullen's hand, and she had to fight against the urge to take a step backwards, "Tell me, Herald, in your mind, tell me what you think." He ordered, stabbing a shadow version of Jacquelyn in the back, causing it to fall down with a small grunt of pain. Jacquelyn pushed her own thoughts out of her mind. The demon wanted to know her. She had to think like someone else. Strangely, the first person to come to mind was Siara.

"Tell me what you feel." Envy ordered, now somehow behind Jacquelyn with a replica of the war table. Flame lit up the table with but a gesture from the demon, which leaned on the table in the exact same way that Cullen did, his face screwed up in a nasty scowl. Movement caught Jacquelyn's attention, causing her to turn around again, this time to face a shadow version of herself. It collapsed to the ground, blood spurting from a wound in its gut, Jacquelyn looking down to the knife that was in her hands.

"Tell me what you see." She threw the knife away, feeling mildly ill. This was too much, too confusing, she didn't understand what was going on. She had to remind herself that she was meant to be thinking like Siara, thinking like she didn't care about anything in the world, think like she didn't care if the world lived or died. A determined frown settled onto her face.

"I won't tell you anything, demon." She muttered, turning and scoping the area before continuing on her way. She had to get out of here, she had to get back to the others, and she had to stop Envy. There was no alternative. She was the Herald of Andraste, and she had a job to do.


	15. Unexpected help

She walked through an arch to the next area, coming across a scene that looked familiar, though it looked a bit different, and felt strange, wrong. And the fact that she was looking at it from a different perspective was strange.

The first moment she could remember from Haven. Four swords pointed at her, Cassandra looming over her in the most threatening manner she could manage. Jacquelyn had to admit that she had been mildly afraid of Cassandra in that moment, more than aware that the Seeker had all the power in the situation, had power over whether Jacquelyn was to live or die.

 _"You're lying!"_ The fake Cassandra said, Jacquelyn looking at the fake her kneeling on the ground. She shook her head. This felt strange. She had to keep moving. The more she moved, the less likely she was to break, and so the more likely she was to escape. But one thing was for sure. She wasn't going near the replay, moving around them as carefully and as cautiously as possible.

 _"Do you deny it?"_ The fake Cassandra asked, Jacquelyn glancing around as she spoke, _"Do you dare deny your crime?"_ Jacquelyn opened the door at the far end, meeting a new scene. This one wasn't something that she could remember. It was the shadowed version of her, standing arms crossed, feet shoulder width apart. There were two other people with her, members of the Inquisition, both standing with their hands behind their backs, which were stiff and straight.

 _"Our enemies have surrendered unconditionally."_ The female soldier reported, eyes fixed in front of her.

 _"The Inquisition's strength rivals any kingdom."_ From the male soldier.

 _"Our reach begins to match my ambition, but we'll strive for more."_ Jacquelyn wasn't entirely sure whether she was the one saying that, or the fake. It was a strange sensation, one that she more than disliked. She growled.

"Is imitating me the only pleasure you have, Demon?" She spat, "Is there nothing better for you to do with your miserable existence?"

"Accusing, trying to find my weakness, is that the woman you are?" Laughter filled the area, sending goosebumps up Jacquelyn's spine. Then the figures vanished in a small explosion, Jacquelyn flinching backwards as the flames seemed to engulf her. She could feel the heat, but for some strange reason the flames didn't hurt her, didn't leave any mark. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. A demon was messing with her mind. That had to be it. There was no other proper explanation. She could handle this.

Stay strong. Stay alive. Hide your true self. Get out.

She repeated this over and over in her head. It was about the only way she could avoid going crazy. She took in a deep breath and took a step forward, eyes fixed on the path ahead of her. This wasn't going to be too difficult. It seemed clear enough.

Then green flames started spilling out of the pillars ahead of her in some kind of waterfall. She stumbled backwards hurriedly. The flames were worse than the explosion, she could feel the heat prickling her skin. And these flames were green, with a more liquid-like appearance. Jacquelyn frowned at them, thinking hard for a moment. Clearly Envy was going to make this as hard for her as it could. But she wasn't about to give up, looking around. She turned and started walking to the right, seeing a couple of people there. She wasn't about to stop and listen to what torment and lies Envy was going to throw at her, slipping past them as quickly as she could.

"You chose the Chanty flag for the standards, is it important? Will you grieve when the Elder One topples it?" Envy asked, Jacquelyn pausing and looking at what was in front of her. Red Lyrium growing from the walls, blood soaking the ground, some kind of symbol painted on the floor in a red substance which she assumed was also blood. She averted her eyes and kept moving. Envy was trying to get a reaction. She wouldn't let it.

She had to weave her way through the different pillars, for want of a better term. Some of them spun where they were, changing the route that she had to take, forcing her to listen to more of the false Inquisition soldiers talking about her. At one point she had to clamber over a bunch of boxes to actually manage to get past the flames without getting hurt.

"Don't you see how glorious my Inquisition will be after you die at the hands of the Elder One?" Envy asked, Jacquelyn glaring at his back as he ran off, now back in the form of the Lord Seeker once again. Then the image in front of her shifted slightly, shimmering for a moment before shadowed figured appeared in front of her. One was Siara, easily recognisable. And the other was Cullen. Jacquelyn faltered. Seemed to be becoming a usual thing for her when she saw Cullen.  
 _"You're nothing,"_ Siara was saying, _"Templars are less than nothing. And you never stop being a Templar."_ She shot forward, faster than Jacquelyn could comprehend, and the next thing she knew, the false Cullen was falling to the ground. Or his body was. His head was rolling in the other direction. Siara just stood there for a moment, then wiped her blade on the fur on Cullen's armour.

 _"Death was too good for you."_ She muttered, Jacquelyn staring in horror, bile rising in her throat, tears brimming her eyes. She shook her head, just staring at Cullen's head as it stopped rolling, confusion in his lifeless eyes, his mouth slightly open. Jacquelyn forced herself to look away. She'd now seen Cullen die twice. It was starting to take its toll. Siara looked around from it, staring straight at Jacquelyn.

 _"So, Herald, how does this make you feel?"_ She asked, her voice holding that strangely distorted edge to it, _"Does it make you feel anger? Disgust?"_ She moved forwards, closer to Jacquelyn, who flinched back, automatically drawing her sword. Siara shook her head, ignoring the sword, forcing Jacquelyn back against at wall. She stopped as Jacquelyn started feeling uncomfortable, readying to use her sword. Then Siara shook her head.

 _"No,"_ She said, _"Sadness? Sorrow?"  
_  
"What I feel is none of your concern, Demon." Jacquelyn muttered, though her tone was starting to lose its edge. More laughter, then Siara vanished, the explosion following much similar to the previous one. Jacquelyn didn't move for a moment, thankful that Cullen's remains had also vanished in the explosion as she struggled to regain composure. She took in a deep breath, pushing away from the wall and continuing on, bashing down a section of wall that seemed weaker and looking around.

"You're hurting, helpless, hasty, what happens to the hammer when there are no more nails?" That voice was different. Jacquelyn paused. It lacked any kind of malicious intent, but she still didn't trust it, didn't know where it was coming from.

"What are you… get out! This is my place!" Envy sounded angry, which to Jacquelyn was a good thing.

In the room that Jacquelyn had found, there was a giant, twisted rock with an inscription on it, which she read quickly. She wasn't sure if it would help her in any way, but she stowed away what it said for use at a later date, on the off chance that it would. But she didn't have time to do anything more with it. Didn't have time to think on the words. Getting out of here was the primary concern.

She moved to the room opposite the wall she kicked down. There were papers scattered on the ceiling, along with a tub and a couple of baskets, perhaps a book or two. The rest of the room looked like an overgrown bedroom. A part of her supposed she should recognise it, but she didn't. It felt like it was from a dream. Or a dream of a dream. Then she realised that there were also things on the walls that shouldn't be. Chairs, rugs, more books and papers, you name it, along with paintings. At least one of the paintings was hung the wrong way up. There was nothing else in the room, however, and after looking around for a moment, Jacquelyn turned and headed for the door.

"Wait." She spun around, on edge, but recognising the voice. It was the gentle one. The one that Envy had reacted so negatively towards. She turned and slowly walked back into the room, looking around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from.

"Envy is hurting you," The voice spoke again, Jacquelyn whirling around to look where she had thought the voice had originated from, "Mirrors on mirrors of memory, a face it can feel but not fake, I want to help. You. Not Envy." Jacquelyn stopped looking around, eyes landing on the bed, a small frown creasing her forehead.

"Is this another trick?" She asked, "I have just about had enough of your lies, Envy."

"I'm not a lie," The voice objected, almost sounding hurt, "I'm Cole. We're inside you. Well, I am. You're always inside you. It's easy to hear, harder to be a part of what you're hearing, but I'm here. Hearing, helping, I hope." Jacquelyn looked up at the ceiling, a young man, perhaps more of a boy in his late teens, standing upside down. He wore a big floppy hat and rather patched clothes, the hat hiding most of his features from Jacquelyn. She slowly moved closer to him.

"Envy hurt you, it _is_ hurting you. I tried to help, and then I was here, in the hearing, it's, it's not usually like this." Jacquelyn shook her head slightly.

"None of what you have just said makes sense to me." She admitted. A strange growl echoed around wherever this place was, Jacquelyn turning to face the door and backing up slightly.

"I was watching. I watch. Every templar knew when you arrived. They were impressed, but not like the Lord Seeker." She turned to face Cole again, who was now sitting on the headpiece of the bed.

"The Lord Seeker is an envy demon. It wants to be me."

"Yes. It twisted the commanders, forced their fury, their fight. They're red inside. Anyway, you're frozen, Envy is trying to take your face. I heard it and reached out, and then in, and then I was here." Jacquelyn frowned for a moment, contemplating her options. If she had more time, she would have investigated more, but she didn't have time. The longer she was in here, the more danger she – and by extension, the world – was in.

"Very well, Cole. You said you wanted to help? Then help me get out of here."

"It's your head. I'd hoped you'd know how to stop it."

"Unfortunately, I do not." Cole stood up and moved to the foot of the bed.

"All of this is Envy. People, places, power" He explained, "If you keep going, Envy stretches. It takes strength to make more," He carefully got down off the bed, "Being one person is hard. Being many, too many, being more and more, and Envy breaks down. You break out."

"So… if we keep moving in my head, then we will tire Envy into submission?"

"Maybe. I hope it helps. It's more than sitting here, waiting to lose your face." Jacquelyn nodded.

"Then we shall try it." There was a determined edge to her voice, and she felt more like herself than she had when she first got to wherever this place was, other than her head, apparently. Cole nodded, then started moving.

"This way." He said, starting to walk away, though it was closer to a run than a walk. Jacqulyn hurriedly followed him. She didn't have much choice other than to trust this strange boy. She wasn't even entirely sure if he was actually wanting to help, or if he was just another of Envy's tricks. Though if he was, then Jacquelyn would be surprised. He seemed fairly genuine in everything he had said.

Then the images of Cullen getting killed twice played through her mind, and suddenly she was less certain about if she could trust the boy or not.


	16. The Afters

Jacquelyn's eyelids felt heavy, her mind still just a thick fog. The events of the last few days still haunted her, keeping her up at night from the fear that she'd see what she had been shown by Envy, fear that the memories would come back to haunt her dreams, or that somehow Envy could still reach her. She was, after all, connected to the Fade in a way that wasn't properly understood, and if dreams connected you to the Fade, then who knew what sort of effects that could have on Jacquelyn's dreams? Who knew what kinds of horrors could find her? She just wanted to forget, but she couldn't. And it was beginning to take its toll.

They'd fought off Envy once Jacquelyn had managed to escape from the hell it had put her in, thanks to Cole. For some reason, no one seemed to remember the boy or what he looked like. Jacquelyn, on the other hand, couldn't seem to forget. He'd helped her, though she still questioned his motives. If she hadn't been suspicious of everyone and everything before, then she certainly was now. Envy had messed up everything, had shown her things that no one should have to see. Being distrustful just seemed like the right course of action after an encounter like that one. Of everyone.

Then her eyes landed on a solitary person waiting at the entrance to Haven, the way he always seemed to when Jacquelyn was returning.

Cullen.

So maybe she didn't distrust everyone, after all. Seeing him there, alive and well, seemed to lift a weight off her shoulders. She slid from her horse when they were close enough, making straight for the commander.

"Herald, welcome back. I'm afraid that –" Jacquelyn wrapped her arms around his neck, cutting off his thought process and what he was saying. Cullen froze, and she could feel him stiffen ever so slightly, could imagine the look of confusion on his face as he looked to Varric, Cassandra, and Bull. Nothing was said, but she knew there would be some sort of communication occurring. But she didn't care. Cullen was alright. That was all that mattered at that moment. Her grip tightened, something that she hardly noticed until Cullen hesitantly returned the gesture, not saying anything. It took a moment longer of breathing in his scent and the feel of his arms around her before she felt calm and composed enough to release him and take a step back.

"What are you afraid of?" She asked, as if nothing had just happened. Cullen took a moment longer to regain composure.

"Uh… right. Yes. I'm afraid that the Blade has not returned from dealings with the Redcliffe mages and Alexius yet." This brought another frown to Jacquelyn's face.

"Has there been any word?"

"Not yet."

"That does not sound promising. Not even from Leliana's people?"

"Not since the Blade went in to see Alexius."

"Do we have enough people to spare to conduct a rescue attempt?"

"We don't know what we would be sending our people in to. I don't know if sending a rescue party would be the wisest course of action, though I hate to admit it."

"If Spooks has gotten into trouble, we need to get her out of it." Varric sounded surprisingly protective, although on second consideration, Jacquelyn didn't find it particularly strange at all. The merc and the dwarf seemed quite close, from what she could tell.

"There is no need for a rescue mission." All heads turned to where the voice had come from, surprise evident on their faces. Siara and the group she had led were approaching them, followed by a handful of mages. And something was wrong. It was obvious by Siara's expression.

"You're back," Cullen muttered, stating the obvious, "Why did you not send any word?"

"Slipped my mind," Siara dismounted, rudely shoving her way past Jacquelyn and Cullen, "And I'm done. You lot can fix this shit on your own." She didn't say anything else, just continued on her way to wherever it was she was headed, most likely to the hut she'd seemingly taken over. Part of Jacquelyn was pleased to hear that she was planning on leaving. She couldn't help it, not after what she'd seen when dealing with Envy. The image of the Blade decapitating Cullen. Part of her couldn't help but feel like that was a warning, something telling her that she couldn't trust Siara. But she had an image to maintain. She turned to face Solas.

"What happened?" She demanded.

"I believe this is something that Lady Montilyet and Leliana should hear." He said, perfectly calmly, though there was a hint of urgency written on his face. Jacquelyn nodded.

"Cullen, Cassandra, Solas, and Dorian, with me, if you would. Varric, Blackwall, if you would be so kind as to find Leliana? We shall get Josephine on our way to the war table, but if you would find Leliana and tell her to meet us there, it would be much appreciated." Varric and Blackwall seemingly grudgingly agreed, Varric casting a look after where Siara had disappeared to, then they walked off to look for the spy master as Jacquelyn led everyone she'd named to the war table. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and forget her troubles for an hour or two, but, as usual, that wasn't much of an option. There were other, more important things to attend to.

* * *

Siara threw another thing in her bag. She needed out. She was done, thoughts swirling around in her head. There was too much she didn't understand, too many things she didn't know.

Too many things that left her feeling like her existence as she knew it was a lie, too many things leaving her too feel like no one she had trusted and sacrificed for was worth it.

Betrayal. That's all caring got you. Lies, deceit, and eventually death, the things that were standard in life.

There was a knock on her door, and before she could say anything, Leliana had let herself in, carrying a bow with her, not her usual one.

"What do you want?" The greeting was harsh, snapped, an edge to it saying that Siara wanted to be left alone, and anyone not leaving her alone was walking over broken glass.

"Solas and Dorian told us everything," Leliana told her, her voice soft, gentle even, "I'm sorry you had to find out about your sister that way. She was a good woman."

"She was a liar. And she left me to a fate damn near worse than death."

"She did what she had to in order to keep you safe."

"She turned her back on me!" Siara snapped around, her eyes colder than was imaginable, "She left Jacen and me, letting us believe she was dead."

"Mara had no idea about what happened to you. She believed that the templars would have let you go since you're not a mage."

"I was her family! She should have looked for me, should have let her family know that she was safe, that she was alive!"

"She knew that if she did that, you and Jacen would drop everything to help her."

"Damn right, we would have."

"She didn't want to pull you into more danger."

"It was the middle of a fucking Blight! We were always in danger! At the very least we should have stayed together to look out for each other, because that's what families do."

"She wanted to tell you, wanted to contact you. But she was a warden, and with Loghain outlawing them, she wanted to keep you as safe as she could. And that meant allowing you to believe she was dead."

"Yeah, well… she's dead now, ain't she? Only Jacen and I were never told that she was the fucking Hero of Fereldan. And I only found out a few days ago from her fucking boyfriend, who just so happens to be the bloody Grey Warden King of Fereldan. You wonder why I'm so pissed?" Siara shook her head, "I need out," Her voice was barely a whisper now, "It's like she's died twice. Like I only just got let in on a secret that the rest of the world knew. I'm done. I don't care what happens anymore." She turned around, her hair falling in waves down her back and over her shoulders. Leliana watched her movements closely before walking over to the bed, placing the bow down, unstrung, next to the pack. Siara's movements stopped, her eyes resting on the weapon.

"Mara did what she had to, and she gave her life for this world, and for you and your brother. Jacen may be gone, but you're not, and this world isn't. Not yet. They would both want you to carry on, and both would want you to stay and help."

"They're both dead," Siara muttered, running her hand over the carvings on the bow before grabbing it and her pack, "They don't want anything anymore. And I'm gone." She pushed past Leliana and left the hut, not looking back. Leliana followed her out, but then just watched her as she left Haven. Siara was more stubborn that her sister had been, and she was hurting. There was nothing that Leliana could do or say to get Siara to stay, she knew that. She doubted that anyone that was still alive could persuade the Blade to stay and help. Not when everything she knew and had known was falling to bits.


	17. Everyone dies

_A few days earlier_

"No!" Dorian yelled, but nothing could be done. Next thing she knew, Siara was opening her eyes to a completely new scene. There was water coming up to about her knees, and a rather large red lyrium crystal next to them with smaller crystals climbing up the walls. She didn't have enough time to think on it, however, as they were essentially immediately attacked by a couple of venatori. They weren't too hard to dispose of, thankfully, even with the hindrance of the water. Siara spun around to face Dorian. He was already putting his staff away, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Displacement… interesting…" Siara raised an eyebrow at him, not saying anything, "It's probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us… to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?"

"Well, last I remember we were in the castle hall. Wouldn't be too much to assume that we're still somewhere in the castle, right?"

"If we're still in the castle, it isn't," Realisation dawned on his face, a sort of childlike eagerness seeping onto his face, "Of course! It's not simply _where_ , it's _when!_ Alexius used the amulet as a focus, it moved us through time."

"It did what?" Siara held up her hand, showing she didn't want an answer to that, "Okay. Assuming you're right, when in time? Forward or back, and how far? Looking at the red lyrium, I'd be willing to take a guess at forward in time. Then it's just a question of how far."

"We'll have to find out, won't we?"

"I won't even ask how we're supposed to get back."

"I'm sure we'll figure something out. You seem resourceful enough. With your resourcefulness and my brains, I'm sure we'll be fine."

"Oh, so I'm not just stuck with someone I barely know, that someone I barely know seems mildly condescending. Good to know." She threw him a quick, slightly pressed smile, then started searching the venatori that they'd disposed of. The first thing they had to do was get out of this cell. Then they could think on what to do next. So long as they got away from the red lyrium, she'd be happy.

* * *

Getting through the castle wasn't too difficult. Dorian and Siara had to fight a fair few venatori, but fewer than what Siara had been thinking they'd have to. It only got easier when they managed to find Blackwall and Solas, and more alarming. They were already being affected by the red lyrium, even if they weren't yet sprouting crystals. It was when they found Fiona that things really started getting interesting. She was stuck in the stuff, already about half engulfed by red lyrium, telling them that they had travelled forward a year. Siara didn't think that one year would be too bad, not too much damage could have been done… and then they got outside. The tear in the sky had grown, everything around it seeming to go crazy. In places, even gravity seemed to be warped, and in others time was. Fiona had told them that Leliana was somewhere, and she was the main concern. If they could get to Leliana, maybe they could find out more about what had happened. Blackwall and Solas didn't have much information about what was going on in the outside world, they hadn't been out of the castle in that whole year.

Thankfully, they managed to find Leliana reasonably quickly. The thing that got Siara most about seeing her was that she was so… cut off, so short with everyone. And she looked like a walking corpse. But she had the information that they needed. Haven had fallen, been attacked. Jacquelyn had stood up to the man who attacked them, but she had fallen while distracting a dragon long enough for the inhabitants of Haven to escape. Escape hadn't done them much good. One by one they had died off, until only a handful of them remained. Leliana and Cullen had agreed that trying to get Solas and Blackwall back was the best course of action, or at the very least, trying to get more information out of Alexius. Cassandra had already gone off trying to find help, and Josephine… well. She'd been among the first to fall, killed by a couple of their own people while trying to calm a dispute. Siara listened with a grim expression on her face, tucking all this information away for use at a later date. They needed to get back to their own time. They needed to stop this from happening.

Escape itself was almost as daunting as the being sent forward in time and seeing the chaos. After defeating Alexius, the demon horde that approached them finished off Solas, Blackwall, and, lastly, Leliana. And all Siara could do was watch in horror as it happened, Dorian concentrating on opening the portal. Siara turned to face the cowering Alexius, her eyes colder and harder than they'd ever been. She hated this man, even as she started blocking out most of the memories. That was over. Done with. She never had to deal with it again. She simply had to find a way to prevent it from happening.

* * *

"You'll have to do better than that." Dorian smiled at Alexius as he fell to his knees in defeat. Siara scoffed, a small, unkind smile on her face.

"Is that all you've got?" She asked, shaking her head, "I've had more difficultly from the dark spawn."

"You've won," Alexius sounded so… defeated, "There is no point in extending this charade," He turned to his son, "Felix…"

"It's going to be alright, Father."

"You'll die."

"Everyone dies." Siara didn't seem to react, but she respected Felix. This was a truth that everyone should know. And she knew better than most people. It was only a matter of time before she would befall the same fate as Mara, as Jacen. As Felix would soon face. Inquisition troops walked over and guided Alexius away.

"Well," Siara looked at Dorian, who sounded overly cheerful, "Glad that's over with!" She raised an eyebrow at him as the doors opened, many more soldiers marching through the doors neatly and lining the walls, "Or not…" A couple of people walked in. Siara recognised them immediately. King Alistair and Queen Anora.

"Grand Enchanter," Alistair said, addressing Fiona directly, "We'd like to discuss your abuse of our hospitality." Fiona hesitantly stepped forward.

"Your majesties." She said, bowing her head.

"When we offered the mages sanctuary, we did not give them the right to drive people from their homes." Anora sounded pissed. Siara raised an eyebrow.  
"King Alistair, Queen Anora, I assure you, we never intended –"

"In light of your actions, good intentions are no longer enough!"

"You and your followers have worn out your welcome," Alistair stepped forward, "Leave Ferelden, or we'll be forced to make you."

"But, where will we go?"

"You'll come with us," Siara stepped forward, stopping beside Fiona and glaring at the king and queen, "The few of you that remain aren't any trouble, and the Inquisition can give you a place to stay." Alistair blinked a couple of times.

"M… Mara?" There was disbelief written all over his face. If Siara hadn't been pissed off before, she certainly was now. She drew one of her blades before anyone could stop her, grabbing Alistair by the collar of is shirt and forcing him back against a pillar, pressing the edge of the golden blade against his neck. The soldiers all stepped forward, pointing their swords at Siara. Alistair raised his hand to show them to stay back, looking Siara right in the eye.

"Why did you say that name?" She demanded through clenched teeth.

"It was my mistake," He told her, "For a moment, you reminded me of someone I used to know."

"You can't have known her. I don't know you, and she died before she could have met you, _Grey Warden_." Alistair shook his head, almost sadly.

"No," He said, "She didn't." Confusion swept over Siara.

"Yes, she did. I watched her die."

"She survived. A Warden named Duncan found her and took her back to Ostagar, had her healed. She became a Warden herself. _The_ Warden." She felt cold. The blade was lowered, everything suddenly seeming too loud. The sound of horses outside, the quiet movement of armour, her own breath and heartbeat. She shook her head.

"That's impossible," She muttered, "I watched her die. She would have… I would have known if she'd survived, she wouldn't have just left me." Her eyes flicked back to Alistair's face, confusion replacing the anger. He looked at her with that same sorrow.

"Mara was a good woman," He said, "Gave so much more than she should have had to." Siara shook her head again.

"No." She couldn't believe it. She wouldn't. This was too much. Too much too soon. Mara being the Hero of Ferelden was too ridiculous. Mara was a blood mage, Maker damnit all. Alistair wouldn't be acting like this if Siara's sister was the Mara he knew. He couldn't be acting like this. Not with his background as a templar trainee.

"No," She repeated, "It has to be a different Mara. It… it has to be."

"It's not. She talked about you and Jacen a lot. It killed her that she couldn't reach out to you," Alistair pushed away from the pillar, Siara taking a step away from him, "I loved your sister. I know that the only reason she –"

"Enough!" Siara snapped, "Just shut up. I'm done listening to this," She whirled around and faced Fiona, "Get together the mages that are left. You'll be a guest of the Inquisition, and if they refuse to treat you as such, then they'll have me to deal with. We're out of here as soon as you're ready."

* * *

Solas kept a close eye on Siara. She didn't say anything as they set off, pointedly ignoring any attempts Alistair made to talk with her. But she refused to show any sign of weakness, kept everything bundled tight within her. And he could see that it would burst eventually, everything would spill to the surface. And the mercenary would have a hard time dealing with it. He also knew that she would be too stubborn to ask for help. But he could do nothing to help with that. She wouldn't accept any offered help, either. Not yet. For now, he had a question.

He spurred his horse closer to hers, Blackwall and Dorian helping the handful of mages that were left after everything Alexius had done.

"Siara," He said, getting a grunt in reply, "You never mentioned that you are Dalish."

"That's because I'm not."

"Yet you speak the language. When you said your name, Namasiara Ar tu na'din, though I am certain that is not your real name." Siara shrugged.

"The Namasiara part is," She admitted, "Ar tu na'din… definitely not. It's Adahlen."

"Which is still a Dalish name."

"I left them when I was a child. Temporarily went back when I was around eighteen for a job. The idiots tried to give me vallaslin. I was not impressed."

"I am curious," Solas started, not entirely certain what sort of reaction he would get from the question he was about to ask, "Why did you leave your clan?"

"Because of Mara." She spurred her horse ahead, a clear indication that she was done talking. Solas respected her wishes, falling back, a small frown on his face. Siara was becoming more and more interesting by the day, it seemed. Dorian and Blackwall glanced over to him, questioning why Siara had gone on so far ahead. Solas merely shook his head. Siara needed time on her own, something that she was unlikely to get to the full extent that she needed it until they got back to Haven.

* * *

 **I know I skipped over the quest quite quickly, but I was more concentrating on getting that background in. Everyone knows how the quest goes, anyway. I also know my updates have been a bit all over the place and slow and so on, so sorry about that. Been getting distracted a lot.**


	18. Begin the Attack

The closing if the Breach went smoothly, even if it was a bit painful, causing an explosion that had sent everyone flying, hitting the ground relatively hard. Jacquelyn, naturally, experienced the most pain. Even if she was gaining more control over the mark, it still hurt quite frequently. But it worked, and the Breach was closed. Solas' theory had proved correct once again, and Cullen would certainly be pleased to know that the templars had succeeded at their job just as well as the mages would have, had they been willing to help. However, relations between mages and templars was still strained, and the few mages Siara had managed to save from Tevinter's grasp had been unwilling to work alongside the templars, most likely from fear and distrust. Not that the templars had wanted their help, so Jacquelyn had just left it. There hadn't been much point in pressing the issue further.

The celebrations afterwards went relatively late into the night, torches and campfires being lit around Haven as snow fell delicately to the ground, building up in small piles on the ground where there weren't any flames. People danced to the music, others got drunk, and yet others stood around listening to Varric's stories. Bull was having some kind of drinking competition with a bunch of people near the tavern, Sara joining in. Jacquelyn suspected that Vivienne had chosen not to partake in these celebrations, and she couldn't spot (or hear) any of the others around the place. The Herald stood watching over all this, still feeling a bit tired after everything that had happened, her mind still reeling after everything and wishing that she could join in these celebrations but knowing that her mind was too all over the place to be able to properly enjoy herself. Though, the more she thought on it, the more she realised she'd love to drag Cullen into a dance, even if he didn't seem like he was much of a dancer. Or even like he was going to partake in these celebrations, not until later at the very least. And Jacquelyn wasn't entirely certain that she would be able to stay awake long enough for that later. She didn't looking around at the quiet crunch of snow behind her, recognising the footsteps as belonging to Cassandra.

"Solas confirms the heavens are scarred, but calm," She reported, "The Breach is sealed. We've reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread." Jacquelyn shook her head.

"This was something we all did," She turned to face Cassandra, "But we still have a lot of work to do. If there are still rifts out there, then our job is not yet finished. The world still needs the Inquisition."

"You're right. But we should give them tonight to celebrate."

"Of course. This was a significant victory. Everyone deserves this," Then she paused, "I assume we have had no word of Siara since she vanished?"

"None, and I don't think we will hear anything for some time."

"She knows things, Cassandra, things about the Inquisition that in the wrong hands could be –" At the moment the warning bells started ringing, the celebrations stopping almost immediately.

"Forces approaching! To arms!" Cullen ordered, direction troops. Cassandra and Jacquelyn shared a quick look before rushing towards the gate. There was no time to ponder. No rest for the wicked, it would seem, Jacquelyn wishing she had time to complain about the lack of time to rest but knowing she didn't. Haven was in danger.

* * *

Jacen followed after Siara as she trudged through the snow, not seeming to show any desire to rest for the night. Something whispered to him that it was related to still being able to see Haven in the distance. Siara could still see the Inquisition, the thing she blamed for her troubles. He shook his head. Leliana was right. He wanted her to stay with the Inquisition, wanted her to help it. He knew that she could. A part of him just knew that Siara should be there, that it was where she was meant to be. That it wouldn't just be her helping the Inquisition, that it would also be the helping her. Jacen watched as Siara put her foot down on a slightly unstable bit of ground and losing her footing, sending her stumbling to the snow covered ground under the weight of her pack, Jacen's bow, and the events of the past few days, if not the past few weeks. He stepped forward, wanting to help her to her feet before he remembered that he couldn't. He looked back in the direction they had come from, seeing only one set of footprints, letting it hit home that he wasn't exactly a part of Siara's world anymore. Sometimes he needed reminding he was dead.

Other times he needed reminding that he had ever lived.

When he turned back to Siara, she had shifted so she was kneeling, the bow off her back, now in her hands. Her knuckles were white, whether from the cold or how tightly she was gripping the bow, Jacen couldn't tell. He couldn't read the expression on her face, either, her hair falling around her like a curtain.

He only got his answer when tiny damp droplets started appearing on the carvings of the bow.

Siara didn't cry, or almost never cried. But now she was letting the tears fall freely, her shoulders shaking slightly as she sobbed silently.

Haven moved around so he could kneel in front of her, his face unreadable. He didn't fully comprehend why she was so upset, but at the same time he shared her pain. If he had gotten the same news that she had when he was still alive, then he would quite possibly be as much of a mess as she was. He reached out to touch her shoulder, not knowing what else he could do, but also being fully aware that she couldn't feel him, would be completely unaware of the gesture. He just let her cry. She needed to let it out before she could start to heal.

That was when the chiming of warning bells reached their ears Siara lifting her head and turning to face Haven, her eyes slightly red and eyelashes matted together, Jacen looking over her shoulder.

"They're going to need help, Siara." Jacen told her, his eyes flicking to her. As usual, there was no reaction. Then Siara pushed herself to her feet, Jacen's bow replaced on her back with her twin blades. She started walking again, continuing in the opposite direction of the sanctuary. Jacen shot to his feet, racing to get in front of her.

"You have friends down there. Varric, at the very least. And Dorian got you back to your correct time. You owe him, and you owe Varric. Don't turn your back on them, not when they're facing danger. Haven isn't the most military of places. They need all the help they can get, and I think you know it." Siara's footsteps slowed until they stopped, not looking around. She stayed like that for a moment, not moving, shivering slightly from the biting wind. A growl-like sigh escaped her and she untied the ribbon she'd been given by the girl when dealing with Kildarn, pulling her hair back before braiding it as she started trudging back to Haven, muttering under her breath as she went. Jacen smiled. He knew Siara couldn't hear him, not properly, anyway, and he knew that she was good at being angry and holding grudges. But he also knew that no matter how many grudges she held, no matter how angry she was, it would never stop her from defending people who she cared for, or those who were defenceless innocents.

Returning to Haven to help was their duty.


	19. Turmoil

All they could do was fight their hardest to keep the invading army at bay while they got the trebuchets working, which wasn't an easy task. They'd fight off one wave just for another to come along, venatori seemingly of an endless supply. And the state of some of those trying to defend Haven really wasn't helping. Bull and Sera were drunk, Sera (usually a damn good archer) was missing about half her shots, and Bull… well, actually, he didn't seem to be doing too badly.

Solas, Varric, and Balckwall were doing their best to help people as they retreated to the Chantry, Dorian and Vivienne helping provide cover fire and other magical aid. Every now and again Jacquelyn would catch a glimpse of a slightly floppy hat darting around, either helping people retreat or neatly disposing of venatori soldiers.

Cassandra and Jacquelyn were doing their best to watch each other's backs, staying close enough so they could step in where necessary while also doing their best to defend citizens of Haven. Doubt started to creep into Jacquelyn's mind as she looked around at everyone fighting to defend their home. Everyone was already tired. How much more of this could they take?

The first trebuchet fired, but the second one didn't. Jacquelyn's thoughts had to be out on hold while she, Cassandra, Bull, and Dorian split off to check on the second trebuchets, freeing it from venatori control and then firing it, slowing and – hopefully – stopping the oncoming attack. At least for now, until they could send for help, something Jacquelyn hoped Leliana was already seeing to. With any luck, King Alistair could respond and send help in time. They needed assistance, urgently. Hopefully what had happened between Alistair and Siara wouldn't impact whether the king would help.

Just as people started letting relief flood over them, an odd, unidentifiable sound surrounded them. Everyone started searching the skies, not that they had to look for long. Horror and dread filled Jacquelyn.

"Move," She ordered, "Move! Now!" Everyone dove for cover, the only real option they had as something resembling red lightning shot from the dragon that was diving towards them, the trebuchet being destroyed. Shrapnel hit Jacquelyn's shoulder, pushing her off balance and sending her tumbling into the snow. She rolled onto her back, clutching her arm, her sword having fallen nearby.

The dragon flew on past, Dorian rushing over to Jacquelyn to her feet, a soft green glow emanating from his hands as he quickly did his best to heal the bruise the shrapnel would have left, or at the very least lessen it, the Herald standing there thankful for her armour. She nodded her thanks to Dorian, then turned to watch as the dragon made its way around again. She shook her head, fear gripping her for a moment. They weren't equipped to fight a dragon, no where near it. And it could mean the start of another Blight, something that she couldn't deal with, couldn't fix.

But now wasn't the time for panicking. They had to get back within the walls of Haven, back to safety, or what safety was offered. They could help all they could on the way.

* * *

Siara was on the wrong side of the army. Well… sort of. She was off to the side slightly of Haven, which she wanted to get to. While she was a good fighter, she wasn't so good that she could fight her way through an army of venatori single handed, even if she just had to fight her way diagonally across. She had to admit it, she wasn't sure if the Inquisition was worth the effort.

Seeing the dragon, however, knocked something loose within her. Dragons frequently corresponded with Blights, right? And the last Blight had spelled the death of her sister. She wasn't going to lose anyone else she cared about to a dragon, especially not after finding shit out. The other thing seeing the dragon prompted was the future that she and Dorian had fallen into. Trevelyan had been dead in that future. Perhaps the dragon had something to do with that. So Siara crouched lower in her hiding spot.

Sooner or later someone would walk past, someone who she could knock out and steal the armour of. Sure, she didn't like the idea, but it was the best one she had. She needed to move fast, and the fastest way to Haven was through this army. First thing to do after acquiring her disguise would be to hide her stuff. She wasn't going to lose her armour, or her clothes, money, other supplies…

Jacen's bow. As much as she wanted to keep it with her, especially so soon after getting it back, practicality said to get rid of. Hopefully it would only have to be temporarily.

The other thing she knew she would need upon reaching Haven was a plan, though that would be interesting to come up with, considering that Siara had no clue what was going on within its walls, or how many venatori were within them, or what state the buildings would be in, or even how many survivors there were. Or how much panic everyone would be in. She was going in blind, something she did a lot more often than she would like. It had always been Jacen and Mara who would make plans, anyway, Siara would simply follow them. Not that it was really an option any more.

On the other hand, it meant that she had nothing to lose. And going in blind could be fun, so long as no one close to her was being threatened. In this case there were people she probably cared about too much to have fun going in blind. She might not have any family members left to care for, but there was still Varric. Varric… she did give a shit about him. She settled herself slightly lower, preparing for what could be a long, boring wait. Though if this took too long, she was going to have to come up with another plan. With any luck, a good one.

* * *

Jacquelyn frowned slightly, thinking. There was only one choice. She hated it, was terrified by it, but there was no other option. They had to give the now refugees time to get out. If Jacquelyn could do that, then she would.

"Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way." Cullen sounded hopeful, but not like he overly believed what he was saying. The Herald turned and smiled at him as reassuringly as she could.

"I shall certainly try my best. I have no intention of dying today." She could see her words did little to comfort him, the look in his eyes giving him away. He cared about her, probably about as much as she cared about him. But there was nothing else that she could do. The only viable option was to get out there and slow that dragon down, giving everyone – including Cullen – the head start they needed. She chewed her bottom lip, then stepped forward and threw her arms around Cullen's neck. For once he didn't hesitate, wrapping his arms around her and holding her for a moment, just breathing in the scent of her hair. He recognised it as being Andraste's Grace, something that he thought was quite fitting for the Herald.

Jacquelyn reluctantly pulled away, Cullen's grip loosening. She let her hands fall to rest on his chest, smiling up at him.

"I will come back." He just nodded. Before Jacquelyn could change her mind, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips, taking him by surprise. She pulled away, striding towards the Chantry doors.

"Bar the doors after us, give yourselves as much time as you can. Bull, Dorian, Varric, with me."

"Herald –" Jacquelyn shook her head.

"The people need both hands of the Divine, Cassandra. You must help them." After a moment, Cassandra grudgingly nodded. She knew Jacquelyn was right. The Herald took in a deep breath, refusing to look back at Cullen, though her body was screaming at her to turn around now, to stay with him. She knew if she snuck even one glance at him, she'd change her mind. She twirled her sword experimentally, making sure she had a suitable range of movement still, lifting her head, shoulders back.

Bull moved to stand next to her, Dorian and Varric flanking them as the two ranged fighters. As soon as they were out of the Chantry the doors closed, a sickening thunk ringing out behind them as the bars closed, leaving Jacquelyn with a feeling of dread sitting in the pit of her stomach.

"No turned back now, eh Boss?" Bull asked, his voice low and rumbling, a dangerous edge to it. Jacquelyn nodded silently, her mouth suddenly going dry, the mark on her hand sending shooting pains up her arm.

No turning back.

And probably no chance of survival.

* * *

Cole went with Roderick at the front, leading the newly made refugees along the path. The priest was going to die, anyone could see that. And it quite possibly wasn't going to be pretty. Blood loss wasn't the nicest way to go. But there wasn't any time to heal him, only enough to keep him going for a bit longer.

Those who could help others along the path did, many people unable to walk on their own. It didn't matter whether it was from shock or injury or a combination of both. Those who weren't affected in some way and weren't helping others were keeping a look out for trouble, making sure that nothing was going to attack them. There had been many times in the past that wolves were seen and heard, though it was doubtful that they would try to attack this many people.

Cullen and Cassandra took up the rear, helping those who struggled, trying to keep them moving and with everyone else.

"She'll be alright, you know," Cassandra said as they walked, "She is resourceful, she'll find a way."

"We hope."

"She is Andraste's Herald! The Maker wouldn't just let her fall."

"We don't know anything. Not for certain."

"Cullen –"

"No. We don't know for certain that she is chosen, and we don't know for certain that she'll survive this." He turned a steely gaze on Cassandra, wanting her to understand. Needing her to understand. He cared for Jacquelyn, prayed that she would make it through this, but he wouldn't get his hopes up. Not again. He wasn't going to believe that she was destined to survive just to have that torn away. It had happened before, he didn't want it to happen with Jacquelyn.

Cassandra fell silent. Maybe she could read all this on his face, maybe all she could do was guess at the turmoil in his head, the kiss still playing over and over in his head, seemingly on an endless loop. It had been so quick, yet at the same time… Maker, please let her survive. Cullen wanted her to survive more than anything. He shouldn't have let himself get attached, not so fast to such an important woman as the Herald of Andraste. But he suspected it was too late for that.

And now he needed her to survive. He paused, looking back at Haven, heart pounding in his chest when he saw the dragon having landed. He couldn't make anything else out other than the flames surrounding the area, but he didn't need to. He could guess where Jacquelyn was. Cassandra rested her hand on his arm, giving him the will power to look away. There was nothing they could do except for hope that the Maker had heard their prayers.


	20. F you speech

"We need to help her." Varric hissed from their hiding place nearby, watching as the dragon circled Jacquelyn, eventually blocking their view of the young noble.

"I agree," Dorian muttered, "But I don't see how. Three of us? Against a dragon? We wouldn't stand a chance."

"Speak for yourself!" Bull scoffed, his face betraying boyish wonder, maybe even glee at a close up look at the dragon. Just a glance at him and you could tell he wanted to have a go at the beast, but he was sensible enough to know that he wouldn't stand a chance against it alone, and Dorian and Varric seemed much more cautious about facing it.

"So how are we going to play this?" Dorian asked, ignoring the qunari, "We can't just go charging in, we'd be dead within seconds, and so would the Herald." There was a slight edge to his voice at the mention of Jacquelyn, but he still knew his duty. He mightn't agree with some of her choices and actions, but she was their best chance of fixing things. He knew that better than anyone.

Well, almost anyone.

"You leave it to someone who is happily mildly suicidal." They spun around at the new voice, Varric aiming Bianca at the newcomer, Dorian's fingers buzzing with lightning, ready to be released at a moment's notice, Bull adjusting his grip on his axe slightly. Though if they were to stay hidden Varric's attack would be the best bet, even if he was the one with the strongest look of doubt on his face as they watched the stranger in venatori armour.

"Hey, watch it! Friendly fire is not okay!" They removed the hooded helmet, revealing the familiar white and purple eyes. Varric grinned, lowering Bianca, the sparks fading from Dorian's fingers, and Bull's axe falling to the ground next to them.

"Maker's balls, am I glad to see you, Spooks!"

"Yeah, well... seems like running away from this mess is easier said than done. I'm gone for a couple of hours and this place falls to shit."

"If what we saw in the future is to make any sense –"

"Stop right there, Dorian. I don't need to think about all that destiny crap right now. First I need to get you lot out of here and to safety, then I can worry about Trevelyan." The objections started straight away, Siara standing there with an eyebrow raised. Dorian didn't say anything. He trusted Siara to have some kind of plan, or at the very least she would have her reasons for not wanting them around. He mightn't know her well, but he trusted her. She'd been there to help when no one else had been, She'd had his back when they were flung through time. He trusted her to have his back, the least he could do was have hers.

The objections died down as Siara crouched down, her blades placed on the ground beside her as she peered around the rubble they were hiding behind. For a moment she didn't say anything, a calculating look on her face. Then she turned to look back to Varric and Bull, her eyes resting for a moment on Dorian with a thankful look in them.

"I'm not going to put more people at risk than I have to. You lot had a plan before coming out here, yes?"

"Shoot the trebuchet at the mountain and bring it down." Dorian promptly responded. Siara nodded, peering around again.

"That's something I can manage on my own. If there are too many people around then this won't work. How did everyone else escape?"

"A path out the back of the Chantry." Bull didn't sound a hundred percent happy about admitting to this.

"Can you get to it?"

"It's hidden, and the Chantry door are bolted."

"Break a window. The path will be more obvious now that everyone else has been through it. Varric should know enough to be able to track everyone if needed."

"I'm not leaving you, Spooks."

"I've lost my brother, found out my sister died long after I thought she did, and am about to risk my life for someone I can barely even tolerate. I'm not going to lose the closest thing to a father figure I've got to some stupid suicide mission," Varric, for once, looked at a loss for words, "I'm not going to lose you, too." This time Siara's words were barely audible, and she quickly looked away.

"We'll make sure we all get out of here," Dorian assured her, "You worry about getting the Herald out of here. You know as well as I do what will happen if you don't."

"Don't remind me." But there was a small, slightly cruel smile on Siara's face as she slipped away, neatly scooping up her twin blades.

"Spooks," Varric called, Siara half turning to look at him, "Be careful. You're not the only one who lost people they care about."

"I know." Then she was gone, disappearing as suddenly and silently as she had arrived.

"Care to lead the way, Papa Varric?" Bull teased, earning a glare from the dwarf and an almost amused glance from the mage.

* * *

"That's the most emotion you've shown since I died." Jacen muttered as Siara slipped into a better position to see from, silently clambering up a fallen roof before leaping to a nearby mound, Jacen never far behind her. Her movements were swift, flawlessly executed, her reactions and skills honed from years of experience. Experiences that Jacen was now convinced he was forgetting, but the thing that confused him most was how right it felt. Jacen stayed close to Siara, darting ahead of her as he spotted the outcrop she was headed towards. From here they could see and hear everything that was going on below.

"Well... at least we know that Jacquelyn is still alive." Jacen looked around at Siara as she settled beside him, a determined look in her eyes.

Jacquelyn was collapsed on the ground, her sword and shield fallen to the side, near the trebuchet. They couldn't see her face, but both Siara and Jacen could hear the crackle of the mark, and Jacen could feel the air buzzing slightly, the pull of the Fade, of home. The quiet, the peace, the knowledge that he could find serenity, if only he reached out. He felt Siara shift slightly beside him, automatically reaching out to place his hand on her shoulder.

He couldn't find purpose in the Fade. Not yet.

"Not yet," He whispered, "There's a dragon and... whatever that guy monologuing is. You wouldn't last ten seconds, and Jacquelyn would go down too. Your chance will present itself. Just wait." Siara scolded, her ears twitching irritably, something they only did when she felt helpless and agitated, or being forced to be patient in a high-risk situation, like now. Her muscles were still being forced to stay relaxed, Jacen could tell. She wanted to tense, wanted to strike, but she couldn't. She had to wait for an opening.

"What does this thing do?!" Jacquelyn cried, pain thick on her voice, fixed with fury.

"It is mean5 to bring certainty where there is none," The creature voice was deep and accented, his words well formed despite how difficult talking must have been for him, considering the crystals deforming his face, "For you, the certainty that I would always come for it." The creature started walking towards Jacquelyn, Siara's body tensing.

"Not yet." A quiet, irritated growl slipped from Siara, but it was short, too short for anyone to place where it came from if they heard it.

The creature bent down and picked Jacquelyn up by the marked hand, her feet dangling uselessly in the air, her wrist completely lost in his hand.

"I once breached the Fade in the name of another," He was saying, "To serve the gods of the Empire, in person. I found only chaos and corruption, dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused, no more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion wither Tevinter and correct this Blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods and it was empty." He cast Jacquelyn aside as though she weighed nothing, her body landing in a collapsed heap as her head smacked against the trebuchet, knocking her out cold. Siara adjusted her stance slightly, judging the distance between her and Corypheus, who Jacen could now simply recognise. Something during the monologue made something click, gave Jacen access to new information, new understanding, clarity about things he shouldn't understand, not with what he used to be.

"The anchor has become permanent, you have spoiled it with your stumblings." He said, Siara glancing at the dragon before pushing herself from the ledge to its head, a road of range and surprise escaping it before she threw herself from it, her twin blades digging into the gap between collarbone and neck either side of Corypheus' head, Siara neatly balancing on his shoulders before ripping her blades put, twisting them hastily before she flipped out of range of the pain-driven darkspawn, who thrashed about slightly as he was blinded by a range of different emotions and his own blood.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to monologue?" Siara quipped, "Leaves you far too open to attack." She stepped back and crouched quickly beside Jacquelyn, pressing two fingers to the woman's neck to check for a pulse. It was faint, but there. Corypheus regained composure alarmingly quickly, glaring cold, emotionless eyes at Siara. Jacen was next to his sister in a flash, positioning himself in front of Jacquelyn.

"You cannot harm me, elf, though your attempt was commendable."

"Compliments from a dead man, that's a new one. You might want to get those checked, ya know. My blades are enchanted."

"They do not hurt me," Corypheus told her, slowly stepping towards Siara and Jacquelyn, "Just as you cannot kill me."

"I'll still give it a bloody good shot if I have to," Siara grumbled, "Pretty sure it's fuckers like you my sister was fighting against. If she could manage it, then... Well... I ain't gonna be shown up by soje dead blood mage, am I?"

"Give me the human. I have no qualms with you."

"I just said my 'fuck you' speech, do I need to repeat it? Are you a little deaf? Red lyrium growing in your ears? Shouldn't you be insane if that is actually red lyrium? Oh, wait..." She never took her eyes from Corypheus, watching his every movement, "Trevelyan, get the hell up so we can get out of here." The herald's eyes fluttered, Jacen recognising the dazed expression. Corypheus was evidently done talking, simply striding towards Siara and Jacquelyn, his movements full of purpose.

"Jacquelyn, if you don't get up right now, I'm leaving you to this guy."

"You wouldn't dare." Jacquelyn's words were slurred, but she managed to reach out and grab her sword and shield, Siara dragging her to her feet after slipping one of her blades to its place on her back, supporting Jacquelyn as best she could as the herald swayed back and forth.

"Well, Mister I-don't-know-or-care-what-your-name-is –"

"Corypheus." Jacquelyn interrupted, Siara rolling her eyes.

"Pleasure to meet you, hope you die." And with that, Siara kicked the lever to fire the trebuchet, already dragging Jacquelyn away, Corpysheus turning to face the cliff as it started rapidly approaching him. Jacen watched as the dragon scooped him up and carried him to safety, the avalanche wiping Siara and Jacquelyn off their feet, sending them tumbling down, down, to who knew where.


	21. On Ice

Siara felt her legs give go from underneath her, the world below her falling away. The snow behind them was now above them, nothing but hard stone ground beneath. She spun in the air until she was facing back where they had fallen from, seeing the snow cascading down towards her and Jacquelyn. Panic filled her, flooding her veins, her heart pounding in her chest. She stretched out her hand as though begging it to stop, as though the simple action could stop the snow from burying them alive. Next thing she knew, a frozen sensation shot along her arm and out her fingertips, the beam colliding with something. Then her head struck hard ground, and she was no longer aware of the cold around her.

* * *

Jacen looked up at the ice layer between the unconscious women and who knew how much snow. What had happened was impressive, and very quick thinking, but there was a part of him that just… knew, that something was wrong. Something wasn't normal. Like the ice shouldn't have been possible. For a moment he just stood there admiring the weaving, almost web-like patterns in the ice, just thinking. Then he turned to where Jacquelyn and Siara lay, both unconscious. He could already see blood trickling out onto the stone ground around Siara's head, though thankfully she wasn't bleeding too much. He would have a closer look, but since he wasn't completely a part of this world anymore, touching people was a bit difficult.

He let his attention turn to Jacquelyn, walking over to get a better look. One the surface she looked alright, but she was wearing armour, so he couldn't get a full idea of what was wrong. Her face was already beginning to bruise, however, and she looked like she hadn't fallen too well. But she, too, was breathing. She was still alive. That was what mattered. A sigh escaped Jacen and he looked up once again to the layer of ice between them and the snow, frowning. That ice still felt off, wrong, like it didn't fit with what he knew. He shook his head, then found somewhere to sit and wait for the women to wake up. There was nothing else he could do.

* * *

Dread filled Cullen as he listened to what Dorian, Bull, and Varric had to say about what had happened. Varric seemed as concerned as Cullen felt, though he didn't quite understand why yet. Varric was a very caring person, but he didn't feel the same as Cullen did about Jacquelyn.

"We got separated when the dragon landed," Bull was saying, "We took cover, the Herald didn't have that chance. We were about to try head back to get her when –"

"The Blade showed up." Dorian interrupted. Cullen blinked a couple of times.

"Siara?" He asked, unbelieving, "Siara came back?"

"Though she was another venatori at first," Bull shrugged, "Had the armour on and it's not like she was expected. Anyway, she told us to get out, so we did. The mountain collapsed when we were halfway up the path. Haven was completely buried."

"No sign of the Herald or Siara?"

"None yet, but we saw the dragon flying away." Cullen looked to the dwarf. Now the commander knew what he was so worried about. As far as Cullen knew, those two had almost always been close.

"They might have survived," Dorian proposed, "They could have found shelter."

"I won't lie to you, Curly, it's a slim chance." Cullen nodded in understanding, the campfire casting shadows across his face as the chilled wind picked up and snow started drifting to the ground.

"We'll send out search teams in the morning. Slim as the chance is, the world needs the Herald if we're to end this thing."

"And Siara." Cullen frowned at Dorian.

"What?"

"It's just a theory," Dorian admitted, "And one with not much proof to back it up, but it was Siara and me lost in that future. Siara was the one to go try to save the Herald from the dragon and darkspawn. I believe that if we are to defeat this threat, Siara will also be needed. To protect the Herald." The frown deepened slightly, but Cullen nodded. He wasn't fully convinced, but that didn't meant that Dorian wasn't right, and this wasn't worth taking the risk. If he was right and they didn't find Siara, then Jacquelyn was in danger.

"Try and get some rest," He ordered, "We've got a long day tomorrow." With that, he turned and walked away. Dorian, Bull, and Varric shared looks before the dwarf followed after Cullen.

"Spooks in resourceful."

"I know."

"If there's a way for them to find their way to us, then she'll find it. Princess is in good hands."

"Are you saying this to comfort me, or you?" Cullen stopped and looked down at the dwarf, who shrugged.

"Both, I suppose," Varric shook his head, "This is difficult shit, Curly, but somehow Siara always finds a way out."

"Like her brother always used to? Like Mara always used to?" His voice almost caught in his throat at the mention of the mage, so many memories trying to flood back to the front of his mind. Things he didn't want to think about when Jacquelyn was in trouble, especially considering the mage's fate. Varric didn't say anything. There wasn't anything he could say. The face Varric was putting on could only last so much doubt. He was just as worried about Siara. With nothing left to be said, Cullen continued walking away, Varric watching him go. He didn't see much point in chasing after the commander.

* * *

Siara was the first to wake up, her head feeling as though there was a storm inside it, a dull pounding against her skull, lights flashing across her vision. She pushed herself into a sitting position, reaching up and touching the back of her head, cautiously probing the surface. She winces, pulling her hand away and looking at the blood on her fingers. A sigh escaped her, and she quickly checked the rest of her. On a first glance, it appeared that her head was the only problem. More than likely she had a concussion, which was annoying, but she could work with it. Provided it wasn't too bad. She tried to push herself to her feet, struggling to breathe as pain shot through her chest and leg. For a moment she just stood there, resting all her weight on her unharmed leg, concentrating on her breathing and not vomiting. These were more… problematic injuries, but she could still manage. Only now did she turn her attention to Jacquelyn, who was still unconscious. Siara forced herself to crouch down next to the herald, knowing full well that she'd regret it when it came to standing up again.

"Trevelyan," She shook the Herald's shoulder, not getting a response, "Hey. Trevelyan. Wake up," A more vigorous shake, still with no response, "OI! Wake the hell up!" Jacquelyn groaned, pulling a face at the slightly too loud voice, rolling herself over onto her back. Her eyes travelled to the ice above them, a confused look on her face.

"Are we dead?"

"If we are, then it's not a nice place we got sent to. I don't want to be stuck with you for eternity." Jacquelyn made a non-committal sound in reply, cradling her left arm as she sat up.

"Where are we?"

"I'm not all knowing, unfortunately," Siara almost growled, "But," She added, trying to calm herself down, "I should imagine we're beneath Haven."

"The avalanche…"

"Must have sealed us in."

"How are we not buried beneath snow?"

"You're Andraste's Herald, call it divine provenance or some shit like that, though I'd be more inclined to call it dumb luck," Siara stumbled to her feet again, doing her best to hide any signs of weakness or shortness of breath from Jacquelyn, "Come on. We need to get out of here, find the others."

"Siara?"

"Yeah?"

"I believe I need some assistance," Siara gave another rather non-committal sound, reaching down a hand for Jacquelyn, who shook her head, "I believe that would hurt my arm too much." The Blade crouched again, quickly looking over the cradled arm.

"Dislocated." She said, then snapped it back into place, not giving Jacquelyn any warning, knowing that any damage she might cause in this movement could be fixed when they got Jacquelyn to a healer. A cry of pain escaped Jacquelyn, the young woman turning even more white, if that was possible, a thin sheen of sweat covering her face.

"You could have warned me you were going to do that!"

"No, I couldn't. If I had, you would have tensed, making relocation of the arm more difficult. Yes, it hurts like a bitch, but hey. At least it's back in place now." Jacquelyn continued to glare at Siara as she once again got to her feet, holding her hand down to the Herald. After a bit more glaring, the hand was accepted, and Jacquelyn pulled to her feet.

"Well, Herald. You're the boss. Lead the way." Siara didn't want Jacquelyn to know she was in pain, and she wanted to keep Jacquelyn's mind busy, off the problems they were going to have to deal with as only two people. Two very injured people. Under who knew how much snow. Siara wasn't even certain they could get out of this cave. But none of these thoughts seemed to be crossing Jacquelyn's mind, or if they were then she was very good at hiding it, already limping down the one tunnel visible. Siara took a deep breath, wincing as pain once again shot through her. She pushed the thoughts away, trying to ignore the pain as much as possible as she forced herself to walk as normally as possible after Jacquelyn.


	22. Rescue

The snow spiralled all around them, wind tugging at what little warmth they still felt. Siara trudged onwards, her body now feeling so numb that she wasn't feeling the pain as much. She knew that it was a mixed blessing. She was getting cold enough that she was now in the danger zone, but at least she could keep up more easily with Jacquelyn, though she was also struggling. Neither of them were certain how much further they could get, which wasn't good. They'd managed to find a few campsites, but they hadn't yet managed to catch up with the others. Their situation was getting desperate. Another cough escaped Siara, blood once again coming out. She looked at the red stain grimly before wiping it away. It was then that Jacquelyn collapsed. Siara hurried to catch up to her, kneeling down in the snow.

"Now is not a good time for a rest, Trevelyan."

"I cannot continue," Jacquelyn forced out, her eyes barely open, her chest heaving, "I am too weak."

"You're gonna be too dead if you don't get up and start moving again."

"What part of I cannot do you not understand?"

"If you have enough energy to snap at me, then you have enough energy to walk." Siara stood up, holding a hand down to Jacquelyn, hauling her once more to her feet. It was getting annoying, always helping the noble woman. But Siara didn't see any other option, flinging the woman's arm over her shoulder. She immediately started struggling under the weight, something that she was prepared for, but still not appreciative of. There was no way that this could be kept up for long, Siara knew that. She was almost as weak as Jacquelyn. More than likely it was simple stubbornness that kept Siara going where Jacquelyn couldn't.

"We'll find somewhere more sheltered for you to rest," Siara had to yell slightly to be heard above the wind, "Then I'll go find help. That last campsite was still warm, everyone else can't be that far on ahead."

"And if you do not succeed?" Jacquelyn challenged, "What if you are lost to the storm?"

"Then we're both as good as dead anyway."

"You do not waste your words, do you?" As if to prove Jacquelyn's point, Siara didn't reply.

* * *

On they stumbled, Siara keeping her eyes peeled for a spot to leave Jacquelyn. The Herald was rapidly losing what little strength she still had, all her concentration going towards keeping her feet moving. The snow was getting deeper the longer they walked, their tracks already lost behind them. It was luck that Siara spotted the cave nearby. It wasn't a deep cave, only just deep enough to protect Jacquelyn from the worst of the wind and snow.

"Stay here," Siara ordered as she helped Jacquelyn into a more comfortable position, though less uncomfortable may have been more accurate, "Hopefully I'll be back soon."

"May the Maker guide and protect you." For once Jacquelyn sounded sincere in her words, catching Siara by surprise. The Herald got a quick half smile in reply.

"Don't die." She said, then vanished once more into the snow, putting up an arm to try and protect her face from it as it fell, trying to improve her vision as much as she could. She slipped and fell multiple times along the way, her body getting progressively colder, not that she had thought it was possible. And yet, somehow, the cold didn't bother her. Not as much as it should have.

"I must be insane," She muttered to herself, pushing onwards, "Risking my ass for her." But still onwards she went, the tips of her ears turning purple, every breath she took stinging. Part of her was thankful for the change of armour, even if it still wasn't the warmest in the world. It was certainly more covering than her own. If she got through this, she'd have to make some changes in design to her normal stuff. Though the longer she walked without finding anyone, the more she wondered if she was going to manage to make it through. If Jacquelyn was going to make it through.

* * *

"Commander!" Jim came running through the camp, almost tripping as he turned the corner too fast, failing to notice the rope holding the tent down, "Commander, it's the Blade. The Blade is here." Cullen looked up at Jim, standing from his stretcher, the pile of maps he'd been looking at falling to the ground.

"Is anyone with her?" He demanded, his thoughts immediately going to Jacquelyn. Jim shook his head.

"No, Ser, but –"

"Take me to her." Jim nodded.

"Of course, Commander." Cullen's mind swam as he was led through the tents, never actually able to hold on to any of his thoughts for more than a moment before it was gone again, replaced by an even darker thought. By memories that he'd much rather be forgetting.

"I'm fine! Get the hell off me!" The voice was definitely familiar, as snarky as it ever could be, but with an edge of… something… something that Cullen wasn't sure he'd ever hear of Siara's voice. He hurried his footsteps, now able to follow the sound of Siara's objectionable voice through the tents. She stood in what had been temporarily become a medical tent, the injured getting checked over, Siara standing at the edge of it glaring at one of the sisters who was trying to get her to sit down and be tended. The elf certainly looked like she needed it. From one short glance, Cullen could tell she wasn't putting any weight on her left leg, and her hair was obviously matted by blood at the back of her head. There was a graze on the side of her face, her ears looked frozen, and by the Maker, she looked exhausted.

"You need your wounds tended to," The sister was insisting, "At the very least we need to warm you up. This weather is atrocious."

"I can wait! Jacquelyn can't!"

"Where is she?" Cullen demanded, marching up to them. Siara turned to face him, her eyes as tired as the rest of her, but still with that determined glint in them.

"I left her up the mountain," She said, "She was too weak to continue, and I couldn't support her any further. She's injured. Very injured. She needs help, and she needs it now."

"James," Cullen called, Jim only just having caught up, "Get Cassandra and a couple of men. We're going up the mountain, now."

"Yes, ser."  
"I'm coming with you." Cullen turned back to Siara, almost scowling.

"No, you're not. You're also injured."

"I don't give a shit about that! Give me a health potion and I'll be fine. I have to make sure that Jacquelyn is okay."

"You'll only slow us down."

"I won't."

"You're not putting any weight on your leg, Siara," Cullen snapped, "And you only just got out of this storm."

"I'm going, Cullen, and there's nothing you can do to stop me. Best thing you can do is give me something to keep me going so I don't fall behind or slow you down," Siara glared at him, "You're not stopping me." For a moment the commander just looked at her, disbelieving. Irritated. Short tempered, more so than he had any right to be. But he could see the determination in Siara's eyes. He knew that she was right. Sure, he could have her arrested, put under guard, but it was Siara. He was almost certain that she'd gotten more injured than this in the past and managed to escape despite it. There was very little he could do to stop her. He sighed, the fight leaving him. At least on this matter.

"Give her a health potion." He ordered.

"But, Commander –"

"She'll report in as soon as she gets back. Won't you, Siara?" There was no room for argument in his tone, and Siara nodded.

"Of course." The sister didn't look happy, but did as she was ordered, heading off and finding the requested potion. When she came back, she not only had the potion, but a cloak as well. Siara nodded her thanks, unstopping the potion and downing it before wrapping the cloak around her. The sister turned to Cullen.

"Make sure she doesn't make herself any worse."

"He's not my mother," Siara muttered, "I can look after myself."

"I can see that." The sister looked less than impressed, but Cullen just nodded.

"Come on." He ordered, already striding away. Siara followed after him, her boots pattering quietly on the ground, though she seemed slightly shakey as she walked. At least her leg was more weight-bearing that it was, though she still walked with a limp. Cullen sighed again as he glanced down at her.

"Don't make me regret this." He muttered.

"If something happens to me, Rutherford, the only person to be blamed is me."

"I doubt that sister would agree."

"She'd get over it." Cullen shook his head. He'd never understand Siara. 


	23. Journey to Skyhold

Jacquelyn lay on the stretcher, Siara watching over her with Mother Giselle. The Herald had been almost unconscious when they reached her, somehow having managed to find the strength to try to continue on despite Siara ordering her otherwise. Once they'd gotten back to the camp, Jacquelyn had been looked over quite thoroughly, many people wandering over to check on their hero. Siara had taken a back seat, though the sister had hurried over to check on her, much to the Blade's disgust. Nonetheless, Siara sat there quietly, not moving an inch as the sister looked her over and ran her tests before doing her best to set to healing as many of Siara's injuries as she could find. Siara did nothing to help the woman find more of her injuries, simply sitting there and doing as ordered. The health potion had done wonders for her lungs, and she was no longer coughing up blood.

"Your actions were reckless," The sister scolded, Siara hardly paying attention, watching the group of advisers bicker nearby, "But, I must admit, you were very brave. And you probably saved the Herald. I think we all owe you for that."

"I don't want anything." The elf muttered. The sister glanced away from her work, looking Siara in the eyes. It took a moment for Siara to meet her eyes, her own void of any emotion. The sister's brows creased together.

"You're a mercenary, aren't you? Isn't everything you do because you want something?"

"Unfortunately for me, if the Herald dies, then the world gets destroyed. And unfortunately for me, I still live in this world. So what would be the point of wanting something for escorting her to the Inquisition? And besides," Siara looked away, watching as the war council's bickering started to escalate, "I'm safer if I'm with you lot. For now, at least. While Corypheus is unaware of where we all are."

"So this is still for yourself."

"Who even knows anymore." She shook her head, watching as the council's bickering continued.

"Well what would you have me tell them? This isn't what we asked them to do!" Cullen was objecting.

"We cannot simply ignore this! we must find a way!"

"And who put you in charge? We need a consensus, or we have nothing!"

"Oh for… Enough already!" Siara interrupted, pushing away from the sister and crossing over to them, "You lot have been at this for who knows how long and it's getting _really_ tedious. None of you are willing to listen to anyone else, and frankly it's driving me nuts. Not to mention that none of you are doing anything to install any confidence in any of your followers. You lot are the ones leading this Inquisition. Act like it!" They all turned to face her, a mixture of shock and anger across their faces.

"Do you have anything to add? We're trying our best here!" Cullen snapped at her.

"Trying your best to do what? Deafen us all?" She shook her head, "Look, you all need to take a step back and actually look at the situation we're in. Sure. Haven is lost. We don't fully know where we are. But we still have supplies for the moment. And once this storm passes, we'll have a better idea of where we are. The main thing to do at the moment is to not help Corypheus out by chewing each other's heads off!" The council looked a bit sheepish, shifting uncomfortably under Siara's gaze. She stood there watching them for a moment, catching the movement of Cullen's eyes and looking around as Jacquelyn got up from the stretcher and limped over to them, holding her arm carefully.

"As much as I hate to admit it, Siara's right," She said, "We still have people depending on us. We must stay hopeful. We will get through this." She smiled at Siara, who simply nodded back before stepping away. Jacquelyn could take over. What needed to be said had been said. She was vanishing towards the outskirts of the camp when the singing began. A small scowl slipped onto her face.

"You cannot make me sing. I refuse." She could almost hear her brother's teasing voice mocking her.

 _"Aw, but you have such a beautiful voice!"_

"Yeah… as beautiful as a cat yodeling…" She muttered beneath her breath, speaking so no one would hear her. It was in that moment that the loneliness hit her again. Jacen was gone. There was no point in talking to him.

* * *

The days passed, slowly, and the Herald continued to lead them onwards. They headed in a northward direction, Jacquelyn occasionally vanishing for a bit when they all stopped to rest. When she wasn't doing that and they were all stopped for a night, she would have quiet conversations with her war council. Siara just watched on from a distance, simultaneously a part of the group, and yet more of an outsider than ever. Sometimes she could hear hushed whisperings from those around her, along with spotting some sideways glances in her direction. Part of her wondered what they were whispering about, another part of her simply wishing that people would stop treating her like some hero. She wasn't a hero. She didn't want to be one. She just felt a duty to continue what her sister had started. Eventually she got sick of it, approaching the war council one night when they were resting.

"Tomorrow I will head off earlier, check what is ahead," Jacquelyn was saying, "We cannot be that far from where Solas was talking about."

"Solas was talking about what now?" Siara asked, standing just at the edge of the warmth radius from the fire. Jacquelyn turned from her seat next to it, her eyes shimmering in the light cast from the flames.

"This does not concern you, Siara." She said, relatively gently.

"Like hell it doesn't. My immediate future is in your hands just as much as anyone else's at the moment. So what is Solas on about at the moment?" Jacquelyn sighed in annoyance, well too aware that she couldn't say anything to make Siara go away unless she actually told her what was going on.

"Solas says that there is somewhere that we could make our base," She explained, "Somewhere perfect for our needs. However, he only told us that it was somewhere to the North."

"That's why you've been going off by yourself so often."

"Exactly."

"Sounds like fun," Siara shrugged, "I'll scout tomorrow, you keep an eye on everyone here. If you don't trust me, I'll take someone else along. Like Solas."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sick of people talking about me where I know what they're doing. So, before I cut someone's head off, let me do something useful." Jacquelyn almost scoffed, looking around at her council members incredulously before looking back to Siara.

"Who gives the orders around here?" She asked, evidently offended.

"Good question. The Inquisition still doesn't technically have a leader. However, you're the Herald. You have the only thing that can actually save us for damn near certain doom. No point in risking you to scouting duty. I have experience in this sort of terrain, as well as experience scouting, and I'm getting antsy. So, I feel that it would be in both our interests to send me scouting. Sound right?"

"It would probably be wise to get her away from the refugees if they're starting to get on her nerves." Cullen provided, speaking hesitantly, thoughtfully. Cassandra looked disapproving and grim.

"I agree," She said, "The Blade has been known to act without thought."

"Aw, Seeker, you break my heart, listening to those rumours."

"They aren't rumours," Cassandra scowled, "They came from Varric's stories."

"Hm, I'm guess written from a perspective of my dearest, most darlingest recently departed brother?" Cassandra didn't reply, "Thought so. Bloody Jacen, still giving me a bad rep from the grave…" She could almost hear a chipper reply from him.

 _"Well, gotta have my fun somehow."_

"It could help with morale if you could spend more time with the refugees," Josephine said, pondering the situation, "So maybe we should let her go?" Jacquelyn sighed, looking to Leliana.

"I suppose you also have a thought to add to this matter?" Leliana shook her head.

"Everything that needs to be said has been said."

"Alright, then I suppose since so many are in favour of it, Siara, you may go scouting in my stead. But take Solas with you. Despite what you did for me back with Corypheus, I would still trust you more if you had someone keeping an eye on you."

"And you trust an apostate more than you trust me? Wow, that hurts, Herald. Don't worry. I won't get us into trouble." She smiled a slightly nasty smile, then turned and vanished among the tents. Cullen sighed.

"Every time I think that I'm starting to understand that woman, something changes and I'm back to square one."

"She doesn't like to be understood," Leliana told him, "She has had so many people leave her, she's afraid that if she's understandable, more people will leave her."

"I suppose that would make sense," Jacquelyn grudgingly agreed, "But it also makes her less trustworthy."

"Which is also part of what she wants. You can trust her to get the job done. She doesn't want to be your friend."

"Doesn't sound like a pleasant way to live," Josephine said, rather sympathetically, "I can't imagine what it's like for her."

"It's her choice," Cassandra sounded like she couldn't care less, "And we have bigger issues to deal with."

"Indeed," Jacquelyn agreed, more than happy to get off the subject of Siara, "Such as our supplies of lyrium are beginning to run low. Cullen, how goes the redistribution?" She asked, settling down to listen to what could be a great many reports over the course of the night.

* * *

Siara and Solas set off at first light, Solas not entirely certain why he was being chosen to babysit the mercenary. Over the course of the night, more snow had fallen, adding a fresh coat to the stuff that had settled before. Jacquelyn watched them leave, frowning slightly. She really wasn't sure how she felt about Siara, whether she trusted her or not. She wasn't that much more sure about Solas, though in his favour, he did tell her that the orb was of elven origin. That at least said something for him, right? She shook her head. There wasn't much point in worrying about it just now. The first thing to worry about was getting everyone safely to the place Solas had mentioned. She stepped back into her tent, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to stop herself from shivering. There were three other people in the tent with her, all women, all of whom didn't have a partner or family. And all of whom kept trying to ask her about the mark. Given that, Jacquelyn supposed she could understand where Siara was coming from. The questions were endless. These women had even asked Jacquelyn about what Siara was up to, why she was helping them, why Jacquelyn was seeming so insecure about her. Jacquelyn hid a scowl.

She wasn't feeling insecure about Siara. Why would she? Siara was an outsider, of her own make. What was there to be insecure about? She quickly went about donning her armour, trying to be careful not to wake the sleeping women before stepping outside. The air was crisp, hurting slightly as it entered her lungs. There were some people already milling about the camp, relighting fires from the night before. It would help a little, and they needed to prepare their breakfasts somehow. Not that they were allowed to eat much. Jacquelyn wasn't sure how much longer they'd be traipsing around the mountains to find this place, and after that she wasn't sure how long they'd be there before they would start receiving supplies again.

She walked through the camp, heading for the medical tents. The sisters were already awake, checking on the sick and injured.

"How are they all?" She enquired, Mother Giselle walking over to her.

"There has been little improvement," She said, "What they really need is rest."

"Unfortunately that is not a choice at this point in time."

"We are aware," Giselle looked around at the patients, some of them stirring in their sleep, "In many cases, the altitude isn't helping."

"This is the direction that Solas sent us in," Jacquelyn shook her head, "I know of no one else who knows this area. Unfortunately, we must trust him." Giselle bowed her head in acknowledgement.

"Of course. If you'll excuse me, I must get back to my patients." Jacquelyn nodded, watching as Giselle returned to her work for a moment before she, too, walked off to attend to her duties. She needed to check that the animals were still capable of carrying all the supplies.

* * *

"So, since you know about this place, how far away is it?" Siara asked, darting up another rockier patch, careful not to slip. Solas walked at a more sedate pace, but was reasonably easily keeping pace with the young woman.

"It's hard to say for certain," He told her, "It could be a few days yet. This area has changed since I found out about it." Siara looked over her shoulder around at him, pausing in her climbing.

"So have you actually been here before?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. He held her gaze, stopping not that far away from her.

"That would depend."

"Depend on what?"

"Do you count discovering the knowledge of it in memories of the Fade as being there?"

"So you know about it from spirits?"

"You could say that."

"Well, that's an answer," Siara sighed and resumed her climb up the hill, "Definitely an answer."

"Not the answer you were hoping for?"

"I'd say no, but I'm not actually sure what answer I was hoping for." Solas watched her contemplatively.

"You're still struggling with the knowledge of your sister." He said, a harsh laugh escaping Siara.

"I wonder what gave you that impression," She scoffed, "Not that it really matters. Doesn't really change anything. She's still dead."

"I could look for her, if you like. In the Fade."

"You wouldn't find her."

"Oh?" Siara shook her head.

"One of the bits of information that the Grey Wardens dislike getting out," She explained, "I only know about it because Jacen and I were briefly helping some of them out. Not to mention that Jacen was dating one for a while. They didn't exactly like how the Wardens operated. Gave out more information about them than they would have liked. Got us more information that we stowed away from a later date. Never know what info might come in handy."

"So what information is it that leads you to believe that your sister's soul would not be in the Fade?" He asked.

"There's a reason it has to be a Warden killing an arch demon," She muttered, "The soul goes into the nearest tainted body. This destroys both the arch demon's soul, and the Warden's," She glanced back at Solas as they headed on up the mountain, "Even if you went back to where Mara died, you wouldn't find her. Not certain you'd even find her memory." Solas frowned.

"You've gone through a lot, despite your young age."

"I'm not that young, Solas. I'm just not old, either. And these days, everyone has gone through a lot. I'm nothing special. You just have to look at the Haven refugees to know that." The conversation might have continued, but at that moment they reached the top of the mountain, giving them one of the most amazing views Siara had ever seen. For a moment she just stood there, looking out over the snowy terrain, her eyes slightly wide. Solas stopped next to her, resting his hands on his staff.

"I'm guessing that's…?"

"Skyhold," He confirmed, "Our new refuge."


	24. The Ascension

"Put those supplies over there," Jacquelyn ordered, "And set up some tents around there until we can get the inside of the buildings properly set up to take inhabitants." The men nodded, going off to do as she had ordered. A sigh escaped her in the half a second of calm that fell on the room she had temporarily claimed as a sort of office. It was as good a place as any to try and organise people from. This wasn't an easy task. The war council were talking about something when they weren't helping her with organising everyone, and she was starting to get a little annoyed about it. They could at least help organise their own people, this wasn't her job. She rested her head in her hands as she leaned on the table, her eyes shutting for a moment as a wave of exhaustion swept over her.

Someone knocked on her door and she grudgingly sat up. Of course they wouldn't give her a moment's rest.

"Come in." She called, Cassandra stepping inside.

"More are arriving daily from every settlement in the region." She said, Jacquelyn struggling not to let another sigh escape her. It had only been a few days, she could barely get her feet under her long enough to decide where the next group of people could go before the another group came along. But Cassandra wasn't done talking, so Jacquelyn left a polite expression on her face, struggling not to show how tired she really was.

"Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage," She motioned for Jacquelyn to get up and follow her, which the Herald grudgingly did, "If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One."

"I am aware."

"We have the walls and the numbers to put up a fight here, but this fight is well beyond the war we anticipated."

"Again, I am all too aware." Cassandra turned to look at Jacquelyn.

"But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you." They reached the top of a flight of steps, Jacquelyn pausing to think for a moment.

"It was the mark," She said, frowning slightly, "It was always the mark."

"No," Cassandra told her, "It was because he sees in you what we all see, something which has nothing to do with the mark on your hand," She turned and started walking again, Jacquelyn now frowning in mild confusion as she followed after her, "Your decisions let us heal the sky, your determination brought us out of Haven. You are the creature's rival because of what you did," She lead the Herald up another flight of steps, "And we know it. All of us," They neared a flat point, Jacquelyn looking on in surprise at Leliana standing there, holding out a sword in front of her, "The Inquisition requires a leader. The one who has already been leading it." Cassandra once more turned to face Jacquelyn, who just stood there looking at the sword for a moment before turning to look out over Skyhold, at the people gathering below her.

"You."

"Are you certain?" She asked, turning back to face Cassandra.

"I believe that you are the best choice, though no one could ever be completely sure about handing over this much power," Jacquelyn nodded, "But there would be no Inquisition without you. How you serve, how you lead, that must be yours to decide." Jacquelyn stepped up to Leliana and looked more carefully at the sword, thinking for a moment. It was beautifully crafted, even if it wasn't the sort of thing she would ever wish to fight with. More decorative than anything, for her purposes anyway.

This was what she had wanted. A chance to prove herself worthy. A chance to lead. She nodded, reaching out and taking the sword in her hand.

"I promise, I shall do everything I can to defeat Corypheus. He will pay for what he did back at Haven."

"Wherever you lead us," Cassandra told her, stepping to the edge, "Have our people been told?" She called down, Cullen and Josephine waiting below.

"They have," Josephine confirmed, "And soon, the world."

"Commander, will they follow?" Cullen stepped back to face those gathered.

"Inquisition, will you follow?" Resounding cries filled the air in support of Jacquelyn, making her smile slightly, "Will you fight?" Louder cries, "Will we triumph?" The cries built even more. Cullen turned back towards Jacquelyn, drawing his sword.

"Your leader, your Herald, your Inquisitor!" He raised his sword towards her, Jacquelyn taking a moment before raising her own in response, the cries from the crowds louder than she could ever have imagined. Pride filled her. This was what she was born for. This was what she was meant to do.

Siara stood at near the front of the crowds, slightly separated from everyone, but still with them. She watched Jaquelyn, noticed the determined smile, and frowned. She had never particularly like the Herald, but then again, that could just be because Siara didn't like many people at the moment, and mistrust had been beaten into her since she was a child. Her eyes flicked to Cullen and Josephine, Cullen having resheathed his sword, looking at Josephine as she awkwardly looked away. Evidently she had gotten quite into the speech as well. Siara walked over to them, folding her arms in front of her.

"You're quite the conductor, aren't you?" She said, Cullen looking at her with an almost sheepish look on his face.

"Thank you?"

"Not sure if it's a compliment or not. More of an observation." Josephine looked at Siara, a slightly curious expression on her face.

"You've never shown any support for the Herald other than when you helped her with Corypheus." She said, Siara turning her unsettling gaze on her.

"So?"

"I'm just saying that I'm surprised you came to this." Josephine shifted uncomfortably as people began to depart from the area, once moe returning to whatever it was they were going to do. Siara honestly couldn't have cared less.

"I'm one of the most famous mercenaries in the world," She said, "I might not like Trevelyan, but if I show my support for her, she'll have an easier time. Whether I like it or not, I am annoying influential. Potentially even more so if it gets out that I'm the Hero's sister and people believe it."

"It's a bit hard not to," Cullen said, "You look a lot like her." Siara paused, then looked up at him, almost glaring.

"Ah, so you're that templar, are you?" Siara sounded more resigned than anything, "The one that Mara had a great time flirting with during her brief stint at the circle," Cullen shifted uncomfortably, drawing a slight smirk from the Blade, "Anyway, doesn't matter how much I look like her. I have an idea for how to get more people supporting Jacquelyn, but it involves getting King Alistair's help. And I refuse to be the one to go to him, because quite frankly, at the moment I'd probably kill the guy. My suggestion is that Josephine, you can send word to him and ask him to… you know. Spill the beans. Break the secret. Let everyone know exactly who the Hero was. Including that she was the Blood." Silence fell over the area as Cullen and Josephine put together exactly what Siara had said. Of course they would have realised it before. They'd just never put two and two together that it meant that their beloved Hero was a blood mage.

"That could do a lot of damage," Josephine started hesitantly, "If everyone learned that the Hero of Fereldan was maleficar."

"It's a risk we should be willing to take," Siara said, "We need to make sure that Trevelyan has as much support as possible. If the world knew that she had the support of the sister of the Warden, then more people would be willing to support her. Might not be easy for everyone to hear it at first, but Mara tricked them for a long time. It's time everyone knew the truth about who she really was."

"We'll have to discuss it with the Inquisitor first," Cullen sounded a bit hesitant, "The decision should be hers." Siara nodded.

"Fine by me." Then she turned and left, Cullen and Josephine sharing confused, maybe slightly worried looks. Neither of them were sure about what Siara's motives were, even if she was telling the truth.

* * *

Siara had claimed a room away from everyone else, had cleared the debris from in it within the first day she was there. She'd even started making it hers, a pile of blankets in the corner below the window, facing towards the door to the inside, next to the door to the outside. She had a pile of papers as far from the window as possible because it was always open to try help with the dust situation, and she wanted the wind to effect it as little as possible. Other than that there wasn't much in the room, but Jacen knew that as time went on she'd put more in there. He was proud of her for deciding to stay. He didn't know how long she would be staying for, but if she was starting to get comfortable then it must be for a decent amount of time. He was standing on the pile of blankets, just looking out the window, watching everyone going about their daily lives. That was when the hat boy appeared, Jacen turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You know it's rude to just pop uninvited into someone's room, right?" He asked, not expecting any kind of response.

"Your thoughts invited me." Jacen blinked a couple of times, the frowned in confusion.

"My what now?"

"Your thoughts," The boy turned to look at Jacen, "They feel familiar. Like home."

"So… wait… you can see me?"

"You're lost, confused, struggling to find your way in a world that's not your own." Jacen's frown grew deeper and he pushed away from the wall, crossing over to the boy.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"I am Cole."

"And you can see me?"

"Yes. And I can hear you. You're different, though. You're not like them. Like you don't belong here. You're more like me."

"You don't look particularly dead." He was about to reply when the door opened, Siara standing in the inner doorway. For a moment she didn't say anything, just stood there looking unimpressed about Cole's presence.

"The hell are you doing in my room?" She demanded, Jacen sighing.

"Shoulda told you she wouldn't be happy about you being in here."

"I'm talking to him." Cole stated, perfectly simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Siara looked at him as if he was crazy.

"There's no one in here," She spoke as though talking to a young child, "Now get out. Before I get in an even worse mood."

"It's okay, I can stay," Cole said, sounding like he was trying to be helpful, "You'll forget me in a minute." Siara laughed, one of her mirthless ones.

"Yeah… no I won't. I don't forget a face. Now go." Cole looked at Jacen, confused.

"Why does she feel different?" He asked. Jacen smiled at him sadly.

"One, who the fuck are you talking to, and two, how the fuck do you know what I feel like? And three, you saying stuff like that is kinda creepy." Siara glared at him.

"I'll explain later," Jacen assured, "You better get out before she gets any more pissed off." Cole didn't say anything else, simply doing another of his vanishing tricks. Siara sighed, almost slamming the door and shifting over to her pile of blanket, pulling up the edge of her shirt and looking at her side, running her finger along the red and blue swirls growing there, glowing in a manner not dissimilar to lyrium. Jacen watched her worriedly.

"I really wish you'd go get that checked out." He muttered. But as usual, he got no sign that she'd heard him. And he knew that he never would. And he no longer cared.


	25. Opening up

The letter arrived a bit later. Jacquelyn was out on some mission or another, Siara being left behind to try figure out what she actually wanted to do with her life. Whether she wanted to stay with the Inquisition as one of its members or if she wanted to return to her previous life as a mercenary. Except solo, this time. She'd been weighing her options for a while now, and on top of that she was trying to work out the new markings growing on her skin. And they were growing. Slowly, admittedly, but they were definitely growing. Almost like veins, except larger. Running from lyrium blue to lyrium red. The thought made her feel uncomfortable. The substance she hated most in the world looking like it was growing on her skin. The thoughts were swirling around in her head as she stood on the balcony outside her room, looking out over the people scurrying around below her. Watching the people of Skyhold work was strangely calming for her. Didn't actually ease her mind, but it made her body relax more. That was when someone knocked on her door, breaking her from her thoughts.

"Siara? Are you in there?" She sighed, shaking her head as she walked over to answer the door, opening for Cullen before walking back into her room.

"What is it now, Commander? Got another job for me?"

"Sort of," He paused before taking a hesitant step into her room, leaving the door open, "I have a letter for you. From King Alistair."

"Burn it."

"I can't do that," Siara glared at him, "It relates to your idea. Of revealing who Mara truly was." Siara looked away, playing with a piece of string in her hands as she sat down on her new mattress.

"What does he want?"

"He wants to speak to you. In person."

"That's not going to happen."

"That's the condition he has for helping us with this," Cullen told her, frowning slightly, "Why aren't you willing to speak with him?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"Look, Cullen, trust me in that you wouldn't. You have the perfect family. Siblings that love you, people here that trust and depend on you. I have none of that. Everything I had is gone, alright? This is… this is no different." She refused to look at him, actually looking truly broken in front of him for the first time ever. Cullen frowned, quietly closing the door and taking a seat on the one chair in the room, turning it so he was looking at her.

"I've seen a fair bit too, you know," He told her, "Talk to me." Siara looked up at him, not even trying to hide the pain in her eyes, chewing on her bottom lip slightly.

"Did you know what Mara was?" She asked eventually.

"There were rumours that she was a blood mage. I never wanted to believe it, though."

"Want to know why she became one?" Cullen nodded, "She wanted to protect Jacen and me. We were just kids when we left our clan. A bit after that we were attacked. Templars had heard stories about an Apostate elf. Doesn't take a genius to realise that it was Mara. Since we'd left the clan with her, she didn't want to leave us behind. Otherwise she might have gone with the templars to the circle perfectly willingly. But we did, and she didn't. We ran. Just… kept running. I'm not exactly sure how we managed to get away, think it helped that we were small, and they were in bulky armour. After that she decided that she had to do what she could to keep us safe. Somehow managed to find a book on blood magic. I'm not sure where or how, and she never told us. Neither Jacen nor I were happy about what she was doing, but we knew why she was doing it, so we didn't try very hard to stop her."

"You blame yourself for her becoming a blood mage?" Siara nodded once.

"Yes. And for her dying. We started looking for jobs not long after that. And it was great. We became the best Mercenaries in Fereldan when we were still really young. Made a lot of enemies, but nothing we couldn't handle. The last job she ever went on was the one at the circle. When she escaped, templars went after her."

"I know. I knew the men that were sent after her. Not nice men."

"Understatement of the century," Siara growled, taking Cullen vaguely by surprise, "They killed her in front of me. Or I thought they did. She survived and became the bloody hero. Didn't do anything to help me, though, did it? Not when I needed it," Cullen frowned, confused, "They took me captive," She explained, "Saying that if my sister was a mage then chances were, I was, too. It was a while before Jacen figured out what had happened and hunted the bastards down. I killed them, more than happily."

"That explains why they never came back." He didn't sound too angry about it. Siara scoffed.

"Yup. But that's not the point of me telling you this," She looked away, "Mara decided to go off and leave me to them. Never looking back. And now the guy that she left me for wants to talk to me, and I don't know if I can do that without ripping his throat out."

"I know what the templars they sent after Mara were like," Cullen started, slightly hesitantly, "Did they… do anything? To you?" Siara slowly turned her eyes back to him, not saying anything. Cullen's blood ran cold, though he couldn't fully explain why, and then he was just plain pissed off. There were reasons he was glad he'd left the order other than the getting off the lyrium. Men like the men who took Siara were what disgusted him most.

"They can't hurt anyone else," Siara shrugged, suddenly seeming very uncomfortable, "They got better than they deserved." He didn't know how to reply, just sat there in silence. Siara seemed content with that, just playing that that piece of string.

"What if someone went with you?" Cullen asked suddenly, Siara looking around at him, a confused look on her face.

"What?"

"What if someone went with you to see Alistair?" He asked, "To stop you from killing him if it came to it." Siara scoffed, a half smile on her face. Definitely not a real one.

"What, you volunteering, Rutherford?" She asked, an almost teasing note to her voice.

"If you want." For a moment they just watched each other, the smile slipping from Siara's face.

"He really won't help unless I see him?"

"It's Alistair. Hard to tell. He might, but it would take a bit of convincing from Josephine or Leliana." Another sigh escaped Siara and she looked back to the string.

"Okay," She agreed, "I'll see him. But I won't talk to him alone. I can't risk losing it, can't risk what I'd do to him. I don't want to hurt him, I just… Don't have the best anger management."

"That's a bit of an understatement," Cullen joked, Siara half smiling, still with that sad air around her, "When do you want to leave?"

"You probably have a bit to get organised, so a few days? I can leave at a moment's notice, but you have an army to run. I'll leave it to you to decide exactly when we go."

"Alright," Cullen stood up to leave, pausing with his hand resting on the door handle, "Siara?"

"Yeah?"

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for what happened to you. And I think I understand why you hate templars so much, now. I'll make sure that the templars give you your space." Siara smiled at him, a genuine smile.

"Thanks." He nodded, and then was gone, Siara leaning back against the wall, leaning her head against it, biting her bottom lip again. She closed her eyes, trying not to let tears slip out on her cheeks, the brisk breeze from outside making goosebumps on her skin. She hated opening up to people. It always left her feeling weaker than she did before, reminded her of old wounds, of old emotions. But she hadn't seen any other way to explain it all in a way that Cullen would have fully understood, even if it did mean he now knew what it was that had been done to her.


End file.
